My Life Would Suck Without You
by my.name.is.mary
Summary: It was a sunny September morning when I first saw her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her bright red hair caught my eye, but when her hazel eyes suddenly found mine, I knew, I was in love................................... SM/RW
1. I'm so screwed

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: I just heard Kelly Clarkson's new song and it caught my attention, so I decided to write a new fic with the purpose of capturing the meaning of the song into a story. Well, I hope you like the first chapter, it's short 'cause it's supposed to be an introduction. Please reviewww and happy reading.**

**Chapter 1**

"**I'm so screwed"**

It was a sunny September morning when I first saw her. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her bright red hair caught my eye, but when her hazel eyes suddenly found mine, I knew, I was in love.

Well, ok, maybe it can't really be called love, since I was barely eleven.

It was my very first time to go to Hogwarts and I was just waiting with my mother and father for the time to leave to come. Then I saw her.

She was surrounded by a lot of people. There was a black haired man with his arm around a ginger woman and a red haired man holding a brunette. Around them was a little red haired boy talking to a black haired one and other three red heads with them. Two of them looked too young to go to Hogwarts. The third one, I'd never forget, looked a little annoyed. She didn't seem to be enjoying her family's company. She seemed to realize I was starring at her 'cause she suddenly turned around and met my gaze.

Her face looked curious at first, like she was trying to sort me out. But then, her father, I supposed, kneeled to her level and told her something as he looked at me briefly. She looked confused and her mother told her something too. Then I heard a whistle and I guessed it was time to leave. My mother caught me in a hug. I've never really liked hugs, so it made me a little uneasy. She let me go and I turned to my father. He had never been big on emotions, so I just expected a hand shake and a 'good luck'. But he wasn't looking at me; he was looking at my red haired. He then turned his eyes to me.

"You better not associate yourself with any member of that family, do you understand?" he said pointing at the beautiful girl and the crowd hugging her and saying goodbye.

I couldn't understand why my father was saying that, but I just nodded and shook his hand goodbye.

It's funny how you are so loyal and so submissive to your parents when you're young. You believe all they say and obey to their every demand. Back then, I was as obedient as a domestic elf, so I listened to my dad and resign to a fate without my pretty red head.

That day I found myself a little grumpy, so I settled in an empty compartment. For what it was worth. Less than five minutes later a lot of people came in.

I was able to recognize a few as the people my father told me not to befriend. I have to admit, I panicked. So I ran out.

Unfortunately for my father, I bumped into someone at the door. Fantastic news for me though, since who I bumped to turned out to be the ginger girl.

"Watch it" she said and walked past me.

I stayed at the door dumbfounded. I know after that humiliation, I should have gone far far away to hide my face, but she had spoken to me. I had never heard such a beautiful voice in my life. It was so soft and calm. What a beautiful sound it was. Even today it's the most beautiful thing I've heard.

Soon enough I found another compartment, full of people I did know and was allowed to talk to. The Zabini's twins, Lucas and Leonard, were there, along with Mischa Flint and Dorian Goyle.

Both Mischa and Dorian are older then me, so I guess I considered them my friends back then more for protection that actual feeling. It was Luke's and Leo's first year too. And soon they all started talking about houses and all. Obviously the twins expected to be in Slytherin and for being a Malfoy I guess I was expected to have the same fate.

Well, my father got his wish. Later that night I was sorted into Slytherin based on who knows what portion of my personality, making any kind of relationship between Rose Weasley (whose name I learned during the sorting… What a beautiful name…), utterly impossible.

She, as expected, was sorted into Gryffindor, becoming my "instant enemy" according to Dorian. You know typical Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry… What a nonsense really. But still I listened to what Goyle and Mischa said, like the little good boy I was.

In the next two years, I would learn my beautiful Rose hated me. I guess she was a little good girl too and listened to her family and stayed away from me. I suppose, even if times have changed, its inevitable for Weasleys to hate Malfoys and the other way around. Although that was the first time I realized I'm not like the rest of my family. I didn't feel any kind of hatred towards the pack of red heads, or the Potters, whom, for some reason, I was supposed to hate to death. What can I say? My father's grudges are _his_, not mine.

In time I found my own person and, well he was definitely a Malfoy. I have to say making fun of people is still fun, thought I'm not supposed to do it now.

Anyways, I grew into Malfoy skin and my personality changed matching the green and silver tie I was obligated to wear for classes. But even though I starting complying to those who expected me to become this huge ass, I could never forget that first meeting, when she was curious about me, before her bloody dad told her whatever it was he said. She was always at the back of my mind. Even when I meant to be horrible to her, I couldn't; though that didn't stop her from glaring at me and telling me to go die in a hole.

I guess I never really wanted to hurt her; in fact, all I ever wanted was to have the courage to approach her and say hello. I knew my father would have a heart attack, but I wanted so badly to let her know just how magnificent she was to me. Not only was she beautiful, she was feisty and sarcastic. She was blunt and not afraid to show who she was. It had me hypnotized. Still, I never grew from the coward I am.

I still haven't said hello.

I'm seventeen now, I'm in my last year at school, and I still can't talk to her. Don't get me wrong, I am not a complete loser. I can get any girl, just no the only one I want. I've seen her go from one boyfriend to other, imagining myself in the shoes of whichever prick she picks. I choke every time she looks at me, and I can't help feeling all over again like the eleven year old that collided with her and didn't even have voice to apologize.

I don't have other choice but grow some guts though. This year I'm Head Boy and she is, as expected, Head Girl. We'll be sharing the same common room. She'd be sleeping a few meters from me....

I'm so screwed.


	2. Something worth changing for

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Yeah! Second chapter done! Finally! You have no idea of how much though I've put into this story. I almost gave up and made it a one-shot. But I have found the answer and I know somewhat clearly what I want this to turn out.**

**Anyways, you have no ideas how happy I am about the reviews and the alerts! So, thank you very much for that, I'm paying back now. I hope you like this chapter, so happy reading and feel free to review!**

**Chapter 2**

"**Something worth changing for"**

Today was a sunny September morning like every other. The same old routine was waiting for me. You know, wake up, showering, dressing, getting yelled at by my father, breakfast, getting yelled by my father some more, and finally getting on the Hogwarts Express to go as far as I possibly can from that horrible place I'm supposed to call home.

This is my last year, and sure as hell, I am in charge. I have to keep things under control and in the mid time I get to yell at many students as I want. But not only that, no; they are actually afraid of me, they shiver at the sight of my batch. I know I'm not supposed to like abusing my power, but... Well, let's just say at this point in my life, I somewhat understand why my father enjoys it so much.

Yes, I am Head Boy. I get to rule the halls and avoid trouble or detentions. Though the privileges don't stop there, oh, no, there's more. I get a tower for my own, a _room_ of my own, a _bathroom_ of my own. I even get the first compartment of the train. I feel bigger and more important than I ever have. Yes, I am on top of the world.

Until I open the door.

I was told in my welcome letter she was Head Girl and still it didn't occur to that tiny with that's supposed to be my brain, that I'd be sharing that huge compartment with none other than Rose Weasley herself.

She is starring out the window and she doesn't seem to notice someone entered to the same compartment she is occupying. To be honest, I am pretty much panicking at my current situation. There, right in front of me, sits the object of my obsession. Yes, _obsession_. Let's just say I don't think what I feel for Rose is love anymore, it's more of an uncontrollable interest, thus, obsession.

Time keeps passing me by and I am still at the door not sure of what I should do. I could just turn away and go to Luke's compartment. I could just insult her. I could walk over to the window and throw myself out, ending my pathetic existence. But no, those options are just a common response for my panic attack. I try to calm down and once my breath became even, I search within myself some for guts. But then, her hazel eyes settle upon me briefly and then they go back to the window.

I try saying hello, to give any sign of recognition. But when I open my mouth, not a sound would come out.

Yes, I have choked… horribly

Unable to find my balls, I take the opposite sit, far away from the red headed.

I can't help it! I'd never stop being a coward. I'd be a chicken until my dying day. This is hideously frustrating. If I can't even greet her, how am I supposed to cooperate with her? Or even make her hate me less?

Then I realize something I should have before.

I have a huge compartment, which I have to share with Weasley. I have a tower at my disposal, which I'm destined to share with her. My room would be mere feet from hers. I have to practically _live_ with her.

I am seconds away from a heart attack!

"Malfoy? Are you alright?" a beautiful sound reaches my ears.

I turn slowly to look at the source.

"Yeah" I mumble.

Merlin, if I am in shock, am I not supposed to be _unaware_ of what surrounds me? I am entitled to be unable to think clearly. If I can't think, then how did I just choke _again_!?

She keeps starring at me, worry tainting her shinning hazel eyes… Worry… Worry? Is she worried about me?

"You sure? You look rather pale" she says after a short pause.

Wait, she is worried. Ok, that's odd. Since when does she care about me? Didn't she hate me? I believe she told me a couple of years ago how much of an ass she thought I was…

So, how come she's worried now?

"What do you care?" I say before I care to stop and think how much of an idiot I am.

I'm pretty sure I blew it and I am fully ready to take the fault… and a probably up coming slap across the face.

But her face goes blank and her eyes turn back to the green hills the train was passing by in a remarkable speed.

"I don't" she simply says

I don't understand why she let it pass. I was rude enough to gain at least a glare. But she does nothing. She just keeps sitting there looking as beautiful as only she can.

Though I don't think I had noticed her just yet. I was too distracted by the simple fact that she was near to notice the way she looked. She has her soft read waves up in a ponytail and she is wearing a white short sleeved button up shirt and beige shorts. The entire thing is somewhat weird, since, normally, she would be already in her school robe and with her hair down. Weird indeed, but very much appreciated. I had never seen so much of her legs before and, trust me when I say those pair of limbs shouldn't be hidden for the world.

Yes, she's beautiful, but her face seems kind of sad and a little worried.

The clock keeps ticking, submerging Weasley and I into a quite prolonged silence. I keep starring at her from my seat, still wondering why her normally gentle hazel eyes seem sad and disappointed.

It's hard to swallow. I feel this huge urgency to say something, but even when I tried searching my brain for something to tell her, zero results were found. I'm getting more nervous by the minute. I feel like such a moron. How is it possible I can't say anything at all! I thought I had left behind the awkward little brat I was when I met her!

Guess not.

All I have to do was breathe, just breathe, right? I'm seventeen; I'm an adult now. I have to stop shrinking every time she talks to me! She's just a girl…

"Do you think we should turn to make rounds with the prefects or just make them independently?" I hear and freeze immediately

Yes, she _is_ just a girl… Then again, she's the _only_ girl that can make me whimper by just standing too close.

I swallow hard and feel my face burn. But I am not bushing! Ok? I don't blush! I'm a Malfoy, so, I, I don't… Oh, never mind… Yes, I am blushing like a squealing school girl!

Merlin, I'm pathetic.

I turn to the windows again in a desperate and rather unhelpful try to hide the growing red spots of my cheeks.

Breathe, you idiot! Just breathe!

"I… I guess we could take turns" I say, still not gathering enough courage to look back at her.

"Yeah, I too think so. If we don't, each of us would have to stay up rather late way too often. It'd be a pain" she says, unexpectedly.

Surprised, I whip my head around, hurting my neck.

She isn't looking at me, and she doesn't look angry or bothered by my lack of eye contact. Maybe she didn't notice I turned my face from her.

To be honest though, I don't care. I mean, did you hear what she just said? Did she suggested making rounds and being responsible was too much of an annoyance for her? Is the girl sitting in this compartment really Rose Weasley? _The_ Rose Weasley? The most responsible person I ever had the pleasure of… bumping into? Seriously?

"Who are you and what the bloody hell have you done to Rose Weasley?" I let slip, unaware, like the bloody idiot I am, I just said that out loud.

"Very funny Malfoy" she says, a small fire finally sparkling in those hazel orbs.

As she looks at me, I realize, there is nothing to choke for… Don't get me wrong, she is the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on, but having her eyes clash with mine, doesn't feel awkward. It feels rather nice, to be honest. Her eyes are so warm; I can almost lose myself in them.

Then, being quite inpatient towards me, Weasley snaps her fingers as she calls me by my surname in a try to wake me up for whatever trace I fell into.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" she asks, looking annoyed at me.

Even annoyance looks cute on her.

"No-nothing that would concern you, Weasley" I say, feeling a little too exposed and being forced to play defense at the current exchange of words "What the bloody hell is wrong with _you_?" I ask her back "Where has your sense of responsibility gone to?"

"_What do you care?_" she says emphasizing the sentence rather hard. I should have known she wouldn't have let it pass just like that.

"I-I-" I ramble then again feeling my cheeks burn. I fight hard against the urgency of hiding my embarrassment "_I don't_" I say, finally, not only regaining my cool, but feeling my face cold down as well… Whoa! I can't believe I was able to talk back!

I watch amused as her cheeks flushed lightly. Aha! Guess I'm not the only one blushing now, am I!?

"I hate that smirk" she says more to herself than to me, standing up and exiting the compartment.

I can feel my smile falling. I hadn't notice I had smirked at my momentarily lapse of inner triumph. I can't wrap my head around the fact that after I managed to actually talk to her, I ruined it all like only I can, throwing her own words back at her.

I am a bloody idiot, there's no doubt about it.

You know, to be honest, I hate my smirk a little too, though my reason for hating such characteristic of my person is pretty weak. I hate it, because _she_ does.

I turn to look out the windows once again, feeling rather sad and disappointed.

I know I shouldn't hate things about myself just because someone else does. What can I say? I'm not proud of who I am. I wish I was someone else in times. I know it sounds incredibly pathetic, not to say quite melodramatic. But I'm not happy with my current life. I know the only one that can truly change that is my own self.

Maybe I could try being happy now. I mean, I'm an official adult. After this term is done, I am entitled to decide if I go back "home" or disappear and live as I please. And I'm looking forward to my own future, not the one my father wants for me. Screw him. This is my life, and I choose to stop being the little good boy I have always been.

And if I manage to feel happy about myself, if I finally get to feel proud of the choices I've made, maybe, just maybe, Weasley would like me then, and to me, that's something worth changing for.


	3. Entitled to be different

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**Chapter 3**

"**Entitled**** to**** be ****different****"**

"How's living with Weasley going?

"It's barely been two days, you know?"

"Have you seen her naked yet?"

"What!? No!"

"Really? Weren't you sharing a bathroom?"

"No, we each have our own"

"Oh, that's sounds boring"

"What sounds boring?" Leo says barging in Luke's and I conversation uninvited, as usual.

"Nothing that concerns you, Leonard" Luke snaps at his twin brother and continues his breakfast

"Oh, right. You and your girly talks. So sorry to interrupt you ladies" Leo says in the cool manner so different from his brother's rather hot headed temper. "Actually I'm not. But do not worry, my dear sister, I'm not willing to talk to you, I need a word with Malfoy here" he finished, flashing quite a hateful smirk to Luke and pointing at me.

"What do you want Leo?" I ask before the issue grows. After witnessing many fights between the two Zabinis, let's say, they are something to properly be avoid.

"Are you applying for captain this year?" he says bringing a toast to his mouth

"I am" I say looking at him in the eye as I too, bite my toast.

I've been waiting for this my entire life and the time has finally come. This year I'd be captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team and finally take the cup from Gryffindor's hands. So dare to dream, Leo, dare to dream; because _this_ is the one thing I wouldn't give up in a million years.

You see, Quidditch is and always has been the most important thing to me, and probably the only aspect of my life I'm actually happy with.

I was less than a year old when I got my first broom (you know, those that barely float an inch above the floor). When I turned six, my father taught me how to fly. That one moment of my life is practically the only one in which Draco Malfoy and I, were father and son. And I'm pretty sure my father regrets that moment of "weakness" with all his might.

Quidditch is a delicate subject in the Malfoy household. I'm aware of my father's skills as seeker in his teens, but I think he decided to give up on flying because of my grandfather. Yes, I know what my family's part was in the Second Wizarding War, and trust me, I'm paying for it. Anyways, I'm sure that if my father's mind hadn't been so easy to manipulate, he would have chase a career in Quidditch, instead of following my grandfather's footsteps. But no, he joined the bad guy and ended up screwing his life.

I am not my father. I am not screwing _my_ life.

"Oh, I guess I've got myself quite a competitor then" Leo says, bringing me back to reality, far, far away from my thoughts.

"Right, you make it sound as if you could be Scorpius' equal, which is clear to _anyone_ that has seen you both play, that's, certainly, not possible."

"I'll see you at try outs, Malfoy" Leo, then, stands up, and completely ignoring his twin, leaves the Great Hall.

"Arse" I hear Luke whisper. But I can't be bothered at the moment. A beautiful red headed had just walked past Leo and is now taking a seat at her table.

Yes, two days living with Weasley. It might surprise you, as it does me, but in 48 hours I did not see one bit of red in the tower. The first night here, she disappeared to Gryffindor tower. I have to admit I had this small hope, she'd stay in and talk with me; after all, we're the Heads, a team. Unfortunately the half of my power doesn't seem to want to know me as much as I want to know her. The second day I barely saw her at class and when I got to the Heads dorms, she wasn't there. She had left in the low table in front of the fireplace, our rounds schedules; she was off to hers, so I didn't see her that night either.

Let's hope today is different.

"We better go" Luke says standing up.

We both walk out of the Great Hall and head upstairs. First class of the day, Transfiguration.

"Scorpius! Luke!" I hear as I walk along with my friend.

Oh, no, not again.

"Hello there, Charlotte" Luke says turning around to meet the girl that caught up to us; the one girl I rather not greet.

I keep walking, but being Charlotte Goyle who she is, she will make me stop and greet her.

"Good morning Scorpius" she says falling into step along with Luke "How was your summer?"

"Fine" I mumble. I really don't want to talk to her. I wish she would just puff away, just leaving dust behind.

"Ok" she says, apparently, getting the hint "How was your summer, Luke?"

"Why do you ask, Charlotte? You were there" Luke says visibly annoyed.

"You don't have to be that rude Luke!" Charlotte squeals. "Oh, I get it now!" she says after a minute or so "I can't believe you're still mad at me! Both of you!" she almost shouts as she punches us both with her hand bag.

"Hey! What the bloody hell?" Luke snaps.

"Get over it, Luke! You too Scorpius!" she shouts as I keep walking.

If there's one person I rather not face or talk to in this world, it is Charlotte Goyle. She is… sorry, _was_ my girlfriend. We broke up last term. To be honest, it was quite a relief to be without her. She's the kind of girl that demands attention everywhere she goes, and I am a little aloof, so it caused us trouble at times. I'm not really hurt, not at heart at least. She hurt my pride, and that's something I can neither forget nor forgive; so I will certainly not _get over it_.

I enter the classroom and sit the furthest behind.

"You won't be able to see a thing from here, you know?"

I raise my face towards a very familiar voice.

Right in front of me sits Elle Flint, my ex-girlfriend's best friend and Luke's eternal crush.

"I don't need to see in order to learn, you should know" I say

"Yeah, yeah, you're brilliant, good for you" she mocks me "How was your summer?"

"Well enough, you know how my father gets when I'm around looking all yell-able" I chuckle

"Right" she laughs "I suppose you told him about your future plans then" she guesses

"What are you talking about, Elle? He doesn't listen to me, he just yells, you know that"

"You've got to tell him eventually" she says, becoming all serious on me.

"I know, I know"

"Well, I have to get back at my seat before you-know-who, sees me here and she throws at fit about it." Elle says after a short pause, getting up

"Yeah right, pure excuses. Truth be told you are blind and from here, _you_ won't be able to see a thing." I mock her, my voice louder with every step she takes.

"If you don't mind, Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to start today's lesson" Mrs. Shoemaker reprimands me.

I apologize and turn my attention to the board.

This will be a long day.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"It's the first week! Can't they go softer on us!?" Luke whines over supper.

"No mate, they can't" I say not really paying attention to my friend.

She's not having supper tonight, apparently. What could she be doing? I know we already got enough assignments to stay awake for the entire night, but still…

"What is he starring at? I hear someone say

"Dunno" someone else replies.

It takes my brain a second to process Elle had asked Luke something. Something about me.

"What?" I say, with my tiptoes still submerged in my thoughts.

"What are you starring at?" she says as she turns around to where I was looking "Potter? You're starring at Albus Potter?" she asks, her voice sounding disgusted.

"I wasn't starring at Potter, I was just thinking and my eyes stayed in one place" I say.

"Thank Merlin" Elle says and turns to talk to Luke.

Luke, what a bloody idiot.

You see, since he met Elle after the sorting, he told me, he liked her. Over the years he still felt the same way about her. You could say Elle is his Rose. But the bloody idiot refuses to ask her out. He says that he doesn't want to ruin their friendship.

Yes people, it happens, friendships can disappear easily, just look at Charlie and I… Wait, no. Charlotte.

Anyways, I've told Luke several times about what I think, but he still prefers to be Elle's friend. Honestly, I don't get it. I wish I had with Weasley what Luke and Elle have. It'd be nice to be able to talk to her without panicking, or blushing, or wanting to die on the spot.

"Oh, I forgot to ask you Scorpius, how's living with Weasley going?" she asks

I believe I have been asked this before. I believe Luke asked me that over breakfast. His question had a complete different meaning from Elle's.

"It's barely been two days, you know?" I say for a second time today.

"I know. I'm just worried about you" she says returning to her meal.

"Worried?" Luke asks "Is there something to worry about?" he says looking at me, a serious expression painting his face.

"Of course!" Elle replies before I could open my mouth "She's a Weasley! She hates us all Slytherin, just like her cousins! Just imagine what she could do to Scorpius! You know, she's smart; she must know a lot of hexes!" she says, overreacting like only she can.

"Ok, well, if she represented any harm to Scorpius, Headmaster Longbottom wouldn't put them in the same tower by themselves" Luke's reasons, apparently thinking, just like me, that Elle might be exaggerating.

"But…" Elle starts.

"I'm a big boy, Elle, I can defend myself" I say smiling at her, though more out of mockery than comfort "Besides, I know quite some hexes myself" I say dramatically as I get up and walk out.

Oh, Elle, Elle. You have no idea of the things Weasley is already doing to me. She's driving me mad. She doesn't need to word a hex for me to fall face first to the ground; just looking at me with those hazel eyes is enough to make me stumble.

I keep walking, heading to my tower. I wonder if she's there. She must, she wasn't at the Great Hall; so she must.

"Password" the man on the painting asks.

"Teamwork" The passage way opens and I walk in.

I see around the common room. The fireplace displays a handful of flames, but there's no one to enjoy their warmth. The work table at the back of the room is empty. None of the couches is occupied. The low table doesn't have a note. I guess it's safe to go to my room, seeing what I expected to find when I opened the door, isn't here.

When I'm about to open my door, I turn slightly to see if there's any light coming from Weasley's room.

Nothing.

I sigh a sigh of resignation and dump myself on my bed. She's not in her room. Where could she be? Is she avoiding me? Did our little discussion at the train make her hate me even more? I knew it. I knew I was bound to screw it all up.

I'm such a bloody idiot.

I get up and head to the bathroom. I'm exhausted, but I have plenty of assignment to tired me some more. Maybe a shower will help me wake up a little. I need to, at least, finish my Potions essay; it's due tomorrow.

I get out of the shower, dripping from head to toes. I put on my underwear and pajama bottoms. Then I dry my hair and put a white t-shirt on. I look in my bag for the Potions book, some parchment, a quill and an ink bottle.

Having all I need with me, I intend to walk into the common room, but when I open the door, I hear voices, so I stay in place, listening.

"How are things going?" a woman's voice asks. "Do you like your classes?"

"Everything is fine, mum… and I do like my classes" Weasley's voice reached my ears.

"How is your brother? And your cousins?" Mrs. Weasley asks.

"Good"

"Call Hugo, I'd like to see him"

"He's not here mum" Weasley says

"Oh, is he in the library?"

"No, he's at the Gryffindor tower"

"If he's there, then where are you?" Mrs. Weasley asks after a couple of seconds, sounding a little confused.

"At the head's tower, mum. I believe I told you I wouldn't reside at the Gryffindor tower this year" Weasley says, impatiently

"Are you telling me you're living with a _boy_? Just the two of you?" Mrs. Weasley asks sounding outraged "What has gotten into Neville!?"

"Calm down, mum. It's not such a big deal" Weasley says indifferently.

"Who's the boy?"

"Scorpius Malf…"

"A Malfoy, Head boy?" Mrs. Weasley cuts her daughter off "That's plain ridiculous, I'm seeing Neville"

"He's not so bad, mum"

"He's Draco Malfoy's son. You don't know Draco Malfoy" Mrs. Weasley seems more scandalized my the second

"I've heard enough about him to have a good guess" Weasley replies, sounding annoyed

"Well, if his son is anything like him…"

"Scorpius is not like his father"

There's a short pause. I can't believe Weasley is saying all these things.

"You don't know him" Mrs. Weasley says

"I know him better than you do"

"Rosie, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" Mrs. Weasley says sweetly after another short pause.

"It can. You know, people aren't all like their parents." Weasley replies sounding more annoyed than before "We're entitled to be different" she says, angry this time "Scorpius is not Draco Malfoy and he never will be" she says. "And I am not…

"That's enough"

There's, yet, another pause, longer this time though.

"I know you don't want to listen, but we've got to set things straight" Weasley says, apparently, more calm, though she also sounded a little sad.

"I said enough, Rose Weasley" her mum says harshly "Goodnight"

Apparently, Mrs. Weasley had paid her daughter a visit through the flu network. A fraction of second after she had said goodnight, the light coming from the fireplace went out.

I try hard to listen if Weasley is crying or something like that, but I can't hear a thing. A couple of minutes passed before I could hear footsteps. She's walking to her room.

I know I should close my door and pretend I didn't hear anything. I know I should avoid this moment as long as it can be avoid. But I have to know. I need to know if she meant those words, or f she just used me to piss her mother off.

Then she steps in front of her door, not noticing mine was open. She opens the door and walks in, but as she intended to close it, she sees me.

We stare at each other for a minute or so. It is impossible to read her face, and I wonder what is going through her mind. I hold her eyes for a while longer. I feel different from all the times she's looked at me. My face isn't burning, my hands aren't sweaty, I can think clearly.

I need to know.

"How do you know I'm not like my father?" I say a little surprise at the coldness in my own voice.

"I don't" she replies blankly. "But I hope you're not" she says and finally closes the door.


	4. The Risen of a Thicker Wall

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Alright, here you go, Chapter 4! I know it's a weird day to update, but I just finished it and I'm dying to see what you think about it. By the way, I will try to update this story every week, either Saturday or Sunday. And because last weekend came and went without me updating this fic, I will update then again this weekend.**

**Anyways, happy reading and reviewww!**

**Chapter 4**

"**The risen of a thicker wall"**

Why the bloody hell did Headmaster Longbottom make _me_ Head Boy?

Don't get me wrong, I like being big and important, I like having the power to do whatever I want; but not everything is pink and flowers.

I mean, look at me! I'm wondering around the castle in the middle of the night to see if people are breaking their curfew or getting into trouble. Its 1:35 and I have to wake up at 5 in the morning for the Quidditch tryouts! And apart from the trouble I'll have waking up tomorrow, as to now, I'm starving, I'm cold and I'm tired.

I shouldn't have left my Defense essay for today! If I had finished it yesterday instead of going to meet Luke at the Slytherin tower, I wouldn't have had to skip tonight's supper to finish it!... Bloody hell.

I look down at my wrist clock and sigh. Almost half an hour still to go. I sit at the floor in the middle of the hallway and then lay my back against the stone floor.

I'm supposed to patrol until 2 am, how annoying.

Maybe I could go back to the tower a little earlier. I mean, if no one's has broken the curfew in an hour and 45 minutes, it seems not too likely they will in the next fifteen. Besides, for all I know, anyone could get out of bed after 2 and never be caught.

That is something I will never understand. Why being so strict and vigilant to only 2 am! I mean, I know there are illegal parties going on in the towers and that more than one person has to get to their own given the time; but at this point I'm pretty sure students know patrols end at a certain hour. So they get out unseen; which is clearly something that shouldn't happen. So I ask myself, what the bloody hell I am still doing here if people would get away with it anyways!?

Fuck it, I'm going to bed!

I stand up from the floor and walk back to my tower determinate. I give a last glance to my clock and realize, despite I had convinced myself to not follow through will the patrol hours; it is now 2:03 a.m.

Bloody hell. I'm an overly responsible git even when I don't want to.

As I stomp back to my tower I begin to seriously consider about talking to Weasley about our schedules.

But I know I won't dare.

I mean, I haven't talked to Weasley since that night, a week ago, when I heard her talk to her mother. I know I ought to stop shrinking away from her, but it's hard you know! Just a mere glance at me and my legs go all jelly on me! Merlin!

Well, maybe I could start to break the wall between us, asking her about that night. I mean, I have to admit that even though I had been determinate to know the reason of her coming to my defense, somehow she managed to dodge my question.

Ok, she did answer me, but what kind of answer was that? "I don't, but I hope you're not"? What the bloody hell?

Yeah, yeah, it was clear enough, I know. But I guess I was expecting a "because I know you're better than that" or something by those lines. So her answer had me feeling a little disappointed… Ok, I was trashed after that.

I know we had never really talked before this year, other than her telling me to sod off. But couldn't she tell me a small lie and pretend she thought I was a better person than people painted me as?

Before I realize, I'm in front of the paint that guards the entry to the Heads' Tower. I say the password and walk in still rambling about my indignant coward-ness.

I kick off my shoes, undo my tie, take off my cloak and throw that last item of clothing across the common room. As I start walking to my room, I realize I'm not alone.

Weasley is sitting at the low table in front of the fireplace looking weirdly at me.

I freeze in place, panicking, as usual.

"I-I… What are you up so late?" I ask putting my defenses up.

"Can't sleep" she says, her sparkling hazel eyes turning back to what I assume is homework.

"Right" I mumble awkwardly.

A few seconds pass and I realize I have been standing there doing nothing like a complete moron. So I take my scattered belongings and head for my bedroom as I feel my cheeks burn…

Yeah, they never fail.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I am _so_ tired… I must have done a truly unforgivable thing to someone to deserve this.

It's 6 o' clock in the morning and here I am, shivering in cold, dying from sleep, with my broom at hand, looking not too presentable in my messy Quidditch uniform.

I slept for barely two hours and a half. I don't deserve this. I know I haven't been the greatest person in the world, but _no one_ deserves this…

"Alright boys and girls, this is how it'll go" old Madame Hooch shouts making sure her instructions reach everyone's ears. "There will be four teams of three chasers and one keeper each." The teams form up and I smile to Luke as he gets ready to go score some goals "Two teams will play along by themselves; no beaters or seekers involved. The other two teams will do the same, this time engaging beaters in order to evaluate them. And for last there will be a snitch searching competition for seekers. All matches will last thirty minutes and I will score you on your performance." she explains "Alright, first two teams get to your marks. One, two, three" and she blows a whistle, starting the match.

I watch as my best friend gets hold of the quaffle, dodges Wyatt Flint, a known skilled keeper, and scores his first goal before the first minute is up. Did I ever tell you Luke is the greatest chaser Hogwarts has ever had?

As I watch the match go on, the sleepiness that was consuming me since I woke up starts to fade away. That's the magic Quidditch has upon me. It gets me excited. What can I say? Adrenaline is my drug.

The thirty minutes are up, and even though all six chasers did very well, there is no doubt in my mind Luke has his spot guarantied; as well as Wyatt; after all, Luke had been pretty much the only one that had actually been able to get past him.

As the third and fourth teams of chasers take their place, I accommodate in mine, ready to beat some bludgers and kick some ass.

Oh, yeah, I'm a beater, and let me tell you… (Madame Hooch whistles) I am the bloody _best_.

I kick the floor with all of me and fly up, meeting right away a bludger and beating it across the field. It reaches Edwin Nott and hits him off his broom. One of Nott's teammates hits the bludger to one of mine; Eleanor McCarran I believe she's called.

Oh, no, there's no way that ball is hitting the girl. I fly as fast as I can and reach the bludger just it time to deflect it back to the beater that sent it. The bludger goes back to the other beater and hits him right on the face.

Two down, four to go.

The match continues and I keep beating bludgers off my teammates' courses, getting rid off pretty much the rest of the opposite team in the process. The thirty minutes are up before I realize, and I come back down with the rest.

I approach Luke panting. He has a ridiculous smile plastered on his face. I must have done really well for him to be so smiley; he's not the happy-go-lucky type of person.

"That was brilliant mate!" he says

"You weren't so bad yourself" I say and smile back.

Yeah, I know we sound like the moronic "You're the best; no, you are" kind of guys. But we can't help it. We really are bloody fantastic.

I guess my ego is pretty big when it comes to Quidditch, but hey, I'm human too, you know. I like being truly good at something other than studying, so, sorry if I brag about it… Oh, never mind, I'm not sorry at all.

Luke and I then join the rest of the applicants in the stands. The seekers' match is about to start and I watch as Leonard Zabini takes his place at the other side of the pitch.

This is it. Depending on Leonard's performance, I could or could be not this year's Slytherin Quidditch team Captain. I know Luke thinks I'm way better than his brother to be chosen a leader; but the guy is a great seeker. I don't know if he's better than Albus Potter or not; but he's the best Slytherin seeker that has crossed these fields since my father.

Still I'm confident. I couldn't say if I'm better than him; but I know how good I am. It all depends on Madame's Hooch opinion. The two Zabinis and I are good enough material for Captain; Leonard is one of the two greatest seekers this castle has; Luke is the fastest, most skilled chaser there's ever been; and I am the best, most fierce beater there's been since the almighty Weasley twins. We are all more than enough to fit the spot. But even though this is when Luke could show his brother he isn't better; he preferred not applying. He told me once, he was a better person complying than he was leading.

Well, to be honest, it's easy to see that.

Not too long ago, both Leonard and Lucas Zabini were the bosses. They ruled the Slytherin Tower; they were our leaders. But they often played rough with people. Back then they were both pretty malicious at times. I had been their friend since I was seven; and I saw them change. They were all about blood purity; which to me has always been the stupidest thing. They tortured the new students and insulted nonstop those of half blood or muggleborns. I had it when they decided to mess with Rose Weasley.

_We were at the common room__, sitting in front of the fireplace. It was late and all students had gone to bed; except for us three._

"_So, whose life will be crushed this week?" I asked, bored._

"_We still don't know" Leo said starring long into the fireplace. "Who's annoying enough to deserve it?"_

"_Albus Potter" Luke said, a smirk spreading through his lips._

"_Yeah, he's a good option" Leo said copying his brother smirk. "Maybe, if we did enough damage he won't be playing at Saturday's match and we would win for default"_

"_Maybe we should fuck up the rest of the team too!" I said sarcastically "That way we'll look like cowards who thought couldn't win without cheating!"_

"_Oh, right. I forgot you liked beaten them in a fair match; it makes you feel like the best; doesn't it?" Leo said mocking me._

_By now, the tension between us had grown enough to make us slightly mock with each other. But, really; after years of this, wouldn't you be tired too?_

"_It does. When we cheat it's pretty much like saying 'Hey I won, but I don't deserve the glory', so excuse me if I rather win the cup for my skills at the game, not my skills on messing with people"_

"_You're overreacting Malfoy" Leo said._

"_Oh, right. I'm overreacting… Please Leo, you know it's the truth. Or what? Are you afraid little Albus Potter would catch the snitch before you do? Are you really that pathetic? Have you got no self confidence?_

_I saw as Leonard's tanned face turned slightly red; out of embarrassment or anger, I never knew._

"_Ok, stop fighting like such girls. If Scorpius doesn't want to mess with Potter, let's choose someone else" Luke said in a bossy manner._

_They both went into thinking as I turned to the fireplace and my mind began to wonder. Though it wasn't long when I was pulled back to reality._

"_I know. Let's fuck Weasley up" Luke said_

"_They are all in the Quidditch team and the princess here refuses to do that" Leo said annoyed._

"_Not all of them" Luke said "Not Rose"_

"_Rose?" I said dumbfounded_

"_That's brilliant. She completely deserves it, that know-it-all"_

"_You're joking, right?" I asked in shock_

"_No, it's perfect. We'd teach her a lesson and maybe we'll get something else out of her" Leo said smiling a disgusting smile. "Despite her blood is tainted, she is quite a hotty"_

_Then I snapped._

I will not repeat in my head what happened after that; I'm not proud of it. I said horrible things. I insulted them to no end. I threaten them. I did unforgivable things to them days later. I resented them for a whole month. I had taken upon myself to teach _them_ a lesson.

In time Luke came to senses and swore to himself, he'd be a better person. Leo on the other hand, just began to hate me more than I could have possibly imagined.

Yes, the Zabini twins weren't a team any longer; now they were two towers; one separated from the other by this huge gap; me.

So Leonard hates me enough to have fucked up all I know since then; but this is different. He can turn my family against me; he can fuck my girlfriend; he can make my friends hate me as well; but _this_, I will not let him have.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Congratulations"

"What?" I ask distracted.

I'm back at my common room after a rather long day, starring at the fireplace while I replay the day over and over again in my head.

"I said congratulations" a beautiful sound reaches my ears "I just saw the Quidditch board outside the Great Hall. You made it Captain"

I turn to who I know is Weasley and see her standing at the door with a small but genuine smile directed at me. She's so cute; but I can't really concentrate on her at the moment.

"Yeah…uhm, Thanks" I mumble and turn my face back to the fireplace.

"Shouldn't you be more excited about it?" she asks clearly annoyed. "Are you really that arrogant?"

"What? No!" I snap. "I'm just worried about something else" I say sharply.

Hopefully my lack of interest on talking on the matter will make her go. I mean, I do want her to stay and talk to me, but this is not a topic I'd like to share; especially with her.

She says nothing and I hear as her footsteps disappear behind her bedroom door. So I go back to my thoughts; but before I can, Weasley comes back and sit at the low table that's in front of me. But no, she didn't come to talk to me; she just came to finish whatever assignment she had left unfinished.

"I can think like this" I mumble out loud without realizing so and stand up.

"I don't care. I like working on this table and I will not conform to any other just because you're moping over who-knows-what near my working space." I hear in the middle of the gap between the couch I was sitting on and my bedroom.

I turn around to the fireplace and see Weasley writing on a large piece of parchment. She's writing rather roughly, so I guess I bothered her.

"Sorry" I mumble angrily.

Yeah, I like her, but this is my problem; it has nothing to do with her; so why the bloody hell is she taking anything I say personal?

I turn back but change my mind a second later.

"Actually I'm not sorry. Last time I checked I was entitled to _mope_ wherever the bloody hell I wanted" I say loudly starring coldly at Weasley's back.

Weasley turns her face to me as her soft red waves move around. Her hazel eyes are as cold as a tough winter night

"Do as you please" Her voice so low and mad it gave me goose bumps.

She turns back to her homework as I stay standing in place, anger starting to boil in me.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you!?" I yell frustrated. "Why are you mad at me for!?" she opens her mouth clearly mad at me but I cut her out "Don't tell me it's because that stupid table; because that's not a real reason!"

"Well how about being so bloody arrogant when I try my hardest to be the bigger person here and congratulate you!? How about walking away every time I happen to be in the same room as you? How about being rude to me at the train in the way to school? How about being so bloody cold to me when I had just put my relationship with my mother in the line defending you!?" she snaps, standing up.

As she boils in fury, I stand there dumbfounded. Why was she resenting my behavior?

"Why would you be mad at me because of that!? I mean, you don't talk to me either; you're not nice to me either! I didn't ask you to defend me or congratulate me! You have no right to get all worked up about it!" I yell at her angry

"I haven't been nice? I've been trying Malfoy, trust me! At least I'm not insulting you every time you walk past me! At least I haven't hexed you in your sleep! Consider that!" She yells back at me.

"Right, then I've been pretty bloody nice to you too, seeing I haven't done any of that either!"

"I've tried having a conversation with you! I tried getting to know you! We are supposed to get along in order to work well together, but how am I suppose to get along with you if you won't stay in the same place I am for more than 5 minutes!"

"Really? Don't you think that goes both ways!? The very first night you disappear to who-knows where; the second one you're off to rounds! You even arranged the bloody schedule so there's no way we're are in the common room at the same time!, So you don't get to be the victim here!

"And you do!? Right! Poor Scorpius Malfoy having to share a tower with a Weasley!" she mocks me "Don't you think I know what your friends think of me, what they call me and my family!?"

"Well sure I can have it as bad as you! After all you're trapped with the biggest muggle hater's son! Poor Rose Weasley trapped in a tower with a bloody Malfoy, one of the worst beings of the entire world!" I mock her back

There's a long pause in which both Weasley and I seem to having trouble controlling or breathes. Then she starts gathering all her stuff.

"Mum was right" she said softly but still clearly angry as she walks to her room. "You're just like your father" she says and shuts the door close.


	5. A few explanations

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Ok people, as I promised, here's chapter 5. I'll try to upload as soon as possible the next one because there's a cute thing coming so I don't think I can wait 'till next weekend to upload it. Anyways thanks for the reviews and the alerts! Special thanks to Avanell and KaceyO, who never fail to review my story.**

**I'm looking forward to see what you all think, so happy reading and please review!**

**Chapter 5**

"**A ****few**** explanations****"**

'_You're__ just__ like __your __father__'_

She could have Crucio me nonstop and it wouldn't have hurt any worse than those last words.

Another week has passed me by and not only am I destroying any chance of making up with Weasley; I'm not even trying.

I know, I know. I should apologize for yelling at her; but then shouldn't she apologize to me as well?

I mean, let's set things straight. I like Weasley, I like her a lot; but I am very, very stubborn, and it's hard for me to apologize; especially if I'm right.

Ok, maybe I'm partly wrong but it doesn't matter; I will not apologize until she does.

"When is this not-coexisting thing between you and Weasley going to stop? Luke asks me. "Because you know I love you mate, but you can't stay in our dorm for the rest of the term"

Oh, did I forget to mention Weasley changed the password of the tower, without me being aware of such affair? Yes, she locked me out and the bloody paint refuses to let me know the password. And not only that; oh, no! She sent by owl (_owl_, for Merlin's sake!) all my belongings back to me. That alone gained me a whole week of detention for disturbing the peace at breakfast! I mean, seriously!? And after that, bloody Headmaster Longbottom called me into his office to tell me that we should work our differences out now because there was no spare room for me to stay the rest of the year.

"As soon as she admits she's in the wrong" I mumble angrily. "And I've been staying for only five bloody days. You make it sound like I've been taking your space for over a month. I'll leave soon or later; don't rush it"

"Yeah, but I know you. If I start bugging about it, you'd do it sooner." He says and takes a bite of his toast as I glare at him.

I turn back to my breakfast, but before I could stop them, my eyes leave my cereal to stare at the red head across the Great Hall that has done a pretty god job at ignoring me for an entire week.

"What happened anyways?" Luke asks making me tear my eyes from Weasley and come back to my meal.

"Nothing"

"Nothing wouldn't have required her to kick you out of the Heads' tower, now would it?"

I turn my head to look at my friend.

No, I haven't told him much about my argument with Weasley. But really, what am I supposed to do?

If I tell him I haven't spent much time in the same room as her; he would like to hear a reason. I could tell him I just don't like her and I wouldn't have to confess to him how much I like the bloody ginger. But still, how do I explain myself when it comes to my resentment towards Weasley's strategy of preventing us from being in the tower at the same hour? How am I supposed to explain that I actually want to get to know her and I'm mad at her for not letting me?

I can't tell him, I just can't… Though I can side track the deal, can't I?

"She said I was just like my father and it infuriated me, so I rambled something back and she took it way too personally" I summed up, glancing at my cereal in disgust.

"Why should your similarities with your father infuriate you?" Elle asks unexpected as she takes the vacant sit in front of Luke.

I stare long at the brunette who's supposed to be my friend, but who I certainly don't consider close enough to give an answer to. Then I push my bowl of cereal away from me and stand up.

"I'm not hungry anymore"

"What did I say?" I hear Elle ask Luke sounding quite confused.

"Better not push it Elle" I hear Luke as I keep walking away.

It is in times like this; I truly realize how great of a friend Lucas Zabini is. I guess I never really have given him enough credit for keeping what I've told him to himself.

You see, this "I'm not like my father" thing has more to do with me trying to be myself than being different from Draco Malfoy.

I've never thought blood purity was something important. When I was younger, if my father said anything contemptuous to people because of their blood status, my mum would tell me not to pay attention to him. She would tell me not to listen to him; that blood wasn't a reason to judge people.

I have that difference clear enough; though the only person who knows that is Luke. No, I've never told anyone else; not even Charlotte. But I never said it, not because I was ashamed of my own opinion; but because I don't care enough about their opinion to tell them mine.

But the thing is; I'm different from my father in another level.

When I was twelve years old, my mum died.

After that, my father crumbled down. He fell and never considered on looking for support in me. He treated me like I didn't matter; like my mum's death didn't affect me at all. He started yelling at me for no reason. I guess he was mad because I reminded him of her, that she was gone and would never come back. He was becoming a bitter man; a bitter man I had to take care of constantly. Sometimes he's aggressive, sometimes he cries, sometimes he just yells, sometimes he throws things around.

I know people think he's mean just because. I know people think he's the worst scum that ever lived. But he's not the stable, sane man he used to be. I must have heard him tell mum how he would never be able to live without her about a million times. And he truly can't. I think his world is up-side-down, and will always be no matter how many years pass. So I turn blind to his behavior at times.

When I was thirteen, a year after my mum's death; it was when it finally sunk in. I have no idea why I didn't really feel it so deep before; but all of the sudden it hurt, and I found myself in need of her hugs, in need of her words, in need of my mum. I was fine and then it all started to lose its edges; everything was blurry and all I wanted to do was cry.

But I was not like my father; then I realized so. No matter how badly it hurt, I would not let myself crumble, I'd stay standing, I would not let sorrow destroy my sanity, my life. I would not make the same mistake he did.

So I'm proud to be different from him. And even though people don't know why I insist about me being myself, I do know. That's why I remark that difference. People may say I'm like him because the way I look, the way I walk or talk, or even some of my morals (excluding the blood thing, of course) ; but I can't help but take it in a personality level.

I'm not him and I never will be.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Hey" Luke says as he sits next to me.

"Hey" I greet him back not turning to meet his gaze.

I know his olive eyes have questions, but I really don't want to answer them. So I keep starring at Professor Highmore's back as he writes the ingredients for today's potion on the board.

As the class starts I watch every one of my classmates and my eyes stop at Leo.

This whole thing with Weasley started because she thought I was an arrogant brat; but I'm not. It's just… I don't even want to think about it. Maybe I can't tell her why I run off from her so very often; but at least I can tell her why I ran off last week. Maybe I should do that. It'd be sort of an apology, but I wouldn't be given her the right completely.

Yeah, I'll do that. I'll be honest for a change.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I stare long into the dark, empty hall. Its 9:30 and here I am sitting on the floor by the painting that guards the Heads' entry. Where is she? Dinner was over an hour and a half ago. She isn't making rounds, I know; today it's up to the prefects. She can't be inside already; I left the Great Hall before her. Could she be in the library? Could she be at the Gryffindor tower?

I stand up and head for the stairs. If she isn't coming, I'll go to her.

I keep walking down the staircase, looking at the steps so I don't fall in the darkness. At the middle of the stairs I look up and see her.

She's walking upstairs the same staircase I am standing on. She then sees me and stops walking. I stare at her from the top of the stair as she stares at me from the bottom.

Her hazel eyes then look away from mine and she keeps going upstairs. She walks past me without giving me a second glance.

If I was in my senses, I would blush like a five year old and walk away. But I'm sick of that pathetic routine. I'm sick of sleeping on the floor. I'm sick of not having a place for myself. So this running-away-from-Weasley thing stops now.

"I wasn't being arrogant. I was disappointed at something else. I'm glad I made it Captain, but something else happened that day; something I didn't want to talk about. So I'm sorry if I seemed like a brat" I say turning around and stare at Weasley's no longer retreating back.

"Alright" she says and keeps walking.

I guess I'd like an apology, but I'm smart enough to know when I shouldn't keep pushing. So I turn downstairs back again and keep walking as well.

"And just so you know, I'm not like my father; I'm not weak; I'm not broken" I say looking back at her.

Yeah I know this would count as pushing it, but I have to let her know; I have to set things straight, or at least start to.

She turns to look at me. Her hazel eyes don't soften up even a little but I sense the apology I deserve coming, though for some reason I don't wan to hear it anymore; so I turn once more and walk.

"Malfoy!" I hear Weasley call

I turn to her and I don't see the huge gap between the staircase and the corridor. The stair had begun to move and I did not see it. I realize I'm falling into the gap. I tried holding onto the last step, but it's fake.

I fall. I don't know how far from the floor I am. Then I hit something; I think it's another staircase. But I can't make it out. I feel dizzy. I don't recognize my surroundings. It all looks blurry. I can't hear clearly. It all sounds like an un-understandable echo. Then it all goes black.


	6. Truce

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Ok! I couldn't help myself! I couldn't just leave that cliffhanger! So I kept writing. And because I'm a feedback junkie, I had to upload it right away! X3**

**By the way, a reviewer told me that some of my sentences are rushed at times; so I tried to not do it; hopefully I did a good job.**

**Anyways, hope you like this chapter; so, happy reading and don't forget to reviewww**

**Chapter 6**

"**Truce"**

"What happened?"

"He fell from a staircase to another"

"How?"

"How would I know, Charlotte? I wasn't with him"

"Why not?"

"Because he had to get to the Heads' tower? I don't know!"

"I bet Weasley pushed him"

"What?"

"Think about it, Luke. She kicks him out, he goes to confront her and she pushes him in a rage roar!"

"No" I try to say but I don't hear my voice. I don't think I emitted a sound at all.

What kind of ridiculous discussion are Luke and Charlotte engaging themselves in? What the bloody hell? What staircase? Why would Weasley push me from anywhere? What's going on? Where am I? My eyelids feel heavy. My head is throbbing. My back hurts and I can't move my right arm.

"Ok you two, out. Mr. Malfoy needs silence and your five minutes are up" a soft voice reaches my ears

There are whispers and footsteps walking away from where I seem to lay. A door shuts and there's finally silence.

I try hard to open my eyes. As I blink, the darkness fades away; but everything is blurry. I keep blinking and the blur transforms into a room with several beds, each of them shield by curtains, in a row in front of mine. I try to sit up, but my unmoving right arm won't cooperate.

"Don't" Madame Lalaine says as she approaches my bed with a glass of a sticky looking purple potion.

"What happened?" I ask, my voice sounding all raspy and sick.

"You fell from a staircase to another Mr. Malfoy" she says as she put the glass down and accommodates my pillows so I can sit better "Apparently the staircase you were walking on started moving before you could reach the floor and fell through the gap between them. You landed on another staircase two floors later"

"Oh"

I have no memory on walking on a staircase and falling. I don't remember getting to the Heads' tower. I don't remember seeing Weasley or anything. The last thing I remember was a bitter supper. Wow. I never in my life thought I'd live a thing like this. I mean, it's not like I have amnesia, but not remembering how I ended up in the infirmary it's a little disturbing.

"It's alright if you don't remember anything; you hit your head pretty badly with the edge of a step" Madame Lalaine says as she hands me the awful looking potion I had wished wasn't for me. "Here, this will heal your arm"

I take the glass warily. It smells like burn paper and cinnamon. I take a deep breathe and I drink the potion as fast as I can. If there something I hate more than disgusting potions, is giving my stomach the time to react to such substances.

"In a few hours you should be good to go, but we'll keep you here for a day, just in case. You'll be free to go to supper tomorrow night" she says and takes the glass from my hand softly "Now rest."

She walks up to the infirmary door and shuts the lights off before walking into her office and closing the door behind her without another word.

I stare long at the nurse's office door.

When was younger my father told me how aggressive and unforgiving the nurse was in his days. I guess I can't complain Madame Lalaine is as mother-like as she is; but I have noticed she's really soft spoken and sweet, but her eyes never really watch you sweetly. It's almost like she treats us all the way she does more out of habit that actual feeling.

As I keep thinking about random facts, my eyelids feel heavy again, and soon I fall asleep.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"How are you doing?" Luke asks me

"I can't complain" I say as I wrinkle my noise and stare at my awful looking lunch

"Of course" Luke chuckles.

"How much am I missing at our very exciting classes?" I ask sarcastically while I push my tray as far away from me as I can without attracting Luke's attention.

"Not much" he says pushing my lunch back to me.

I glare at my friend from my bed. Merlin, I must look like a spoiled brat in these pyjamas and with this messy mass of hair. What a sight, isn't it?

I look back down at my meal.

"I will not eat this" I say in a grumpy manner "And you can't make me"

Ok, maybe I don't just _look_ like a spoiled brat.

"Do as you please" Luke says shaking his head as he smiles at me.

'_Do as you please'_

The last time I heard that, it had been Weasley the one to say it. I wonder if she knows where I am now. Well, she must; the entire school knows. I remember now what happened. I know she was there when I fell. I know the fall has nothing to do with her, unlike what Charlotte thinks; but I can't help but ask myself if she's coming to at least check on me. After all, we're not in good terms, so she should feel bad about me.

What!? What the bloody hell am I thinking? Not only am I a spoiled brat now, apparently I'm a drama queen as well!

Bloody hell_. 'She must feel bad'_. Really? How pathetic.

"What's wrong?" Luke asks me, pulling me back to my extraordinarily annoying reality.

"Nothing" I lied. I must have pulled some kind of strange face when I realized I was being really melodramatic.

There's a short pause in which I'm pretty sure Luke's trying to sort out my expression. I play with the sheets with my left hand as time passes. Luke seems to give up after a couple of minutes and takes out of his bag a book.

"Here" he says, handing me a copy of _One Thousand Quidditch Strategies: Details_ "I thought you might wan to put your spare time to use. And you won't be so bored for the rest of the day"

"Are you kidding me? There's plenty to do around here, like cough and complain and pretend to be in a worse condition than I am" I say sarcastically "But thanks, if I have time, I might read it" I add smiling at my friend.

"I have to get to class" he says glancing at his wrist clock as he shakes his head and roll his eyes. "I'll be back at dinner time to make sure you do eat then" he says sharply.

"No need. I'll be able to have real food for supper" I say starring with narrowed eyes at my untouched lunch.

Luke just chuckles. Then he stands up, takes my tray and puts it on the table beside my bed. He takes his bag and heads for the door. He opens it, nods and walks out.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I had no idea how slowly time passes when I want something to happen. I always thought people said so just because. I had never waited for something so much in my life! Usually, when I want something I try to get it as soon as possible (maybe except for Weasley since she makes me tremble). But I can't get out of this bloody bed until Madame Lalaine says so; which seems to be _never_.

Here I am watching as the evening turns darker by the minute. Madame Lalaine is walking from here to there, ignoring me even better than Weasley has for the past days. I want to leave right about now; but I don't want to rush the nurse; truth be told, she scares me a little.

I give up on starring at Madame Lalaine to make her dismiss me and turn my eyes to the book I've been pretending to read. Yes, it's the book Luke gave me and I already finished it. It is about Quidditch you know, so I couldn't help myself. Besides it helped me get through Charlotte and Elle's visits earlier in the afternoon.

That had been rather uncomfortable, especially since they decided to talk about their theories on Weasley trying to kill me while I starred from one to the other angrily.

"_Last time I checked, I wasn't talking to you, so what the bloody hell are you doing here?" I told Charlotte sharply, preventing her to keep accusing Weasley for something that happened because I hadn't been careful enough to see where I was going._

"_Suck it up. You're hurt so I want to see how you're doing" she said defensively._

"_Well, I'm fine. You can go now"_

"_Oh, come on Scorpius, admit you wanted us to visit" Elle taunted me._

"_You know very well I don't. So if you would please leave." I said going back to my book_

"_Don't be so mean! We were worried about you!" Charlotte whined._

"_I'd appreciate it if you take her with you" I told Elle still looking at my book, pretending Charlotte wasn't even there._

"_Scorpius!" Charlotte whined some more_

"_Don't you have something else to do?" I snapped my book shut. "Like go fuck Leo for example?" I asked her annoyed._

_Charlotte narrowed her blue eyes at me. I knew she was mad, I could see it, but I didn't care; whatever she ever gets from me, she deserves it._

_She glared at me and with no more to say she stood up and walked over to the door. She told Elle she'd be in the library and then she opened the door, walked out and shut it close._

_There was a short silence as __I glared at the closed door._

"_You crossed the line" Elle said in a low, menacing voice as she too stood up._

"_No, you crossed it when you brought her with you" I told Elle angrily. "You know what she did, and you might have forgiven her; but I won't. She betrayed me more than once and you knew it. I forgave you, but I will not forgive her. And don't tell me I'm being mean; because the way I act isn't a quarter of how mean she's been to me."_

_Elle stood there beside my bed, glaring at me. Then she turned around harshly and walked out of the infirmary._

Yes, yes, I acted like a jerk. But believe me, I have my reasons.

Charlotte cheated on me; not once, not twice; but _five_ times. So excuse me if I treat her badly; but in my book, cheating is unforgivable; even in the muggle law it is considered a crime; well, only if the cheater is married; but still.

She hurt my pride and that's the one thing I cannot tolerate. So yeah, I'm an arse to her; but she can't complain; I never cheated on her, I could never even consider that kind of betrayal.

Yes, maybe I was a little over the line. Usually I'm content with not speaking to her; but I was mad today.

You see, when I heard the door open, for some reason I thought it was Weasley. I didn't think she'd come out of pity anymore, but I did hope she'd come. I had been pretty damn naïve to believe she'd care enough to come see me. Yes, she was the one to take me to the infirmary, but anyone in her position would have done the same thing I guess.

"You can get dressed now Mr. Malfoy" Madame Lalaine said, making my train of thoughts crash.

She didn't have to tell me twice. I jumped out of bed and closed the curtains. I took off the top of pyjamas as fast as I could, making my back ache a little in the process. I took a t-shirt that rested on one of the bed sides. I pushed it over my head, messing my hair even more. Then I took off the pyjamas bottoms and put my jeans on. I slipped my shoes and opened the curtain.

For some reason I look sideways to make sure Madame Lalaine isn't anywhere near. Yes, I have permission to leave, but I rather sneak out than having the nurse see me and change her mind, making me stay in bed for another torturous day.

I can't see the nurse, so I grab my coat and rush to the door. But at the middle of my way I hear Madame Lalaine behind me.

"Don't forget to take the potion with you Mr. Malfoy, or your arm won't heal properly" she says in that scary sweet voice of hers. "I imagine you'll want to be able to use both arms while you fly"

She hit the nail.

I slowly turn around to face the nurse. She smiles at me. I walk up to her and she hands me a huge bottle of that disgusting purple potion. As I stare revolted at the sticky liquid inside the glass, she gives me a pad on the head like I was a cute little puppy. Then she turns around and starts sorting some things around her desk.

I'll take that as my actual dismissal.

I restart my way to the door, relieved now that I won't have to lie in that horrible bed any longer. Right about now, I don't care if I have to sleep in the Slytherin dorm's floor; bloody hell, I don't care if I have to sleep standing. I've spent too much time on a bed to mind if I don't lie on one for at least a couple of days.

Feeling content enough at my dismissal, I take hold of the door knob. I open the door, get out of the infirmary and close it back up. I turn around to the hall, ready to go have some real food, when I see someone I no longer expected to see today.

Weasley is leaning against the wall in front of the infirmary, arms crossed up against her chest, looking straight at me. Her face is expressionless, but her hazel eyes look weird, as if Weasley was worried but mad at the same time; well, it's pretty likely she is in fact worried but still mad at me.

I stand there starring at her as well.

"I'm sorry too" she says, her sparkling eyes lowering, but her face still looking rather harsh. I'm guessing apologizing is as hard for her as it is for me.

I keep starring at her; not really sure what I should say or do. Ok, truth be told, the last thing going through my mind is to accept her apology. All I can actually think of at the moment is the fact that Rose Weasley is here, right in front of me. This means she's been worried. This means she wanted to make sure I was ok. She's still wearing her uniform, so she came right after her last class.

She does care.

"I'm glad you're fine" she says pulling herself off the wall and then turning to walk away from me.

As I watch her retreat I cannot help but smile like a moron. I'm about to jump in joy like a middle school little idiot. But then Weasley turns her face back to me and I make my smile disappear before I regret it.

"I changed the password again" she says, her hazel eyes bluntly starring at mine. "Truce" she says before turning her back to me once more and walking downstairs.


	7. Step One

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Sorry it took me the entire week to upload. My PC broke and I had to use my brother's; it's in a public space at my house and I find it quite difficult to write with my family walking all around.**

**Anyway, Hope you like this chapter, so happy reading and please revieww!**

**Chapter** **7**

"**Step one"**

I hate waking up early.

Really, what's the point on waking up at 7 o'clock in the morning to attend class at 9? Can't classes be only in the afternoon? Bloody hell...

It's 8:05 in the morning and I'm having trouble doing my tie.

I _can _do a tie, when I have my eyes open; and at the moment I'm reluctant to do so.

I give up and start walking (stumbling actually), to my bedroom door. I open it and I drag my feet towards the exit. Maybe a good breakfast will wake me up.

"Can I have a word with you before you leave?"

I open my eyes and, slightly afraid, I look around. Weasley is sitting on one of the puffy chairs at the fireplace, her back to me.

"Sure." I mumble in a sleepy voice.

"Sit." she says. Quite bossy, isn't she?

In the inevitable state of panic I am, I walk over to the chair beside hers and sit. If she was any other person I would have slumped onto the chair; but since it is Weasley who's "asking" me to sit, the sleepiness has left my system to be replaced by a merciless anxiety.

"I will only say this once." she says, her blazing hazel eyes starring at the empty fireplace.

There's a pause. I look away from her face and stare at my hands. Why am I so scared of the words she hasn't said yet? I hate being so bloody anxious. Couldn't my insides stop swirling around uncontrollably for just once?

"I'm sorry for everything."

"What?" I ask dumbfounded, tearing my eyes from my hands and looking back at her.

She looks like it's taking her a huge amount of effort to say what she's saying.

"I'm sorry I locked you out. I'm sorry you fell. I'm sorry I accused you for not trying enough." She says, her ensemble softening up a little. "I haven't tried either, so I can't really blame you entirely for our lack of communication. But I _will_ try."

I stare long at the redhead sitting beside me. Her face is still harsh, looking spoiled-like, almost like a child's that is being forced to apologize; but I can see in her eyes she's being honest about it all.

I know I ought to say something. I know I ought to let her know I too want to try. I know I ought to accept her apology and apologize to her myself. But, for some rare reason, my mouth won't open. As usual, I can't find my balls. I'm eleven years old, yet again, unable to mumble a word.

"So, how about we start all over." she says whipping her head to look at me this time.

Her face doesn't look as upset by my lack of talking as I thought it'd be. In fact, she looks pretty determined to maintain her voice at a civilized volume and her mood neutral.

Ok, she actually looks like she doesn't care much if I agree or not, but I'd like to believe she does; she just doesn't want to let me know how much.

But before I can say anything, she stands up, takes hold of her bag and without another word, she gets out.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Scorpius? Are you listening to me?"

"What?"

Eleanor McCarran, one of my Quidditch team mates is starring intently at me through her dull green eyes.

"Silence Mr. Malfoy." Mrs Linus suddenly appears behind my chair and reprehends me.

The librarian shots me a glare and then disappears through the same book shelve she puffed from.

The day has passed me by. It's 7:30 in the night. I've been in the library for over two hours trying to finish my Herbology essay. I was doing pretty well, distracting my mind with homework so it would fall into thinking about Weasley _again_; until McCarran and her equally blonde friends showed up and blew it.

"You were saying?" I whisper a little annoyed.

"I was asking you how you were feeling." Eleanor whispers back, her voice sounding rather hurt. She must have realized I wasn't, in fact, listening to her small, nasal voice.

"We heard about your incident and we intended to visit you yesterday, but Madame Lalaine wouldn't let us see you". one of McCarran's friends, Lucy I believe, says.

I watched as all the four girls start rambling on about Madame Lalaine's coldness in the matter. But really, what does it matter? I got even more visits than the ones I wanted. In fact, I was barely able to tolerate Luke's. By the time Elle and Charlotte came by, I was already grumpy.

I hate getting sick, I hate being taken care of. If I could, I would have left the infirmary right after I woke up, but Madame Lalaine is rather strict and I wouldn't dare to dismiss any of her orders.

"Did you tell Headmaster Longbottom that Weasley pushed you?" One of the blonde pack of girls, whose name I cannot remember, asks me.

"She didn't push me." I clear up.

This girls are really annoying me now. I guess they have been sharing theories with Charlotte.

"Oh, at what time did you leave the infirmary? I didn't see you when you came back down last night." Eleanor asks as her friends all nod like synchronized bloody puppets.

"I didn't go back to the Slytherin dorms." I mumbled rather rudely. Really, I'm not in the mood for a questionnaire, especially coming from 5th years.

"Where did you go then?" bloody Lucy asks.

"I went back to _my _Tower." I reply, trying to emphasize the word "my" as much as I possibly can.

Why the bloody hell would they care? Merlin! They're even more annoying than Charlotte!

I keep trying to write; but I can't due to the series of whispers and spiteful comments the four girls emit as a direct consequence of my last sentence.

Yeah ,I went back to Weasley, big deal. It's not like that makes the redhead and me a couple; I wish it did; but, unfortunately, it doesn't work that way.

Unable to put up with such silly girls any longer, I give up on finishing my essay tonight and stand up. I walk out of the library well aware of the looks the four blondes are giving me, but I couldn't care less.

I hate when a girl flirts just for the sake of flirting. I truly doubt any of those girls likes me enough to want to really charm me. Besides, I kind of like a challenge. I don't like when a girl plays hard to get, I don't like games; but I do like when they don't just fall over a single smile. That's the only way I can find out how much I like the girl, if I try hard enough.

Nevertheless, this whole portion of my nature seems to disappear when it comes to Weasley. I mean, she's not just any challenge; she's cold and stubborn; and that drives me crazy. She catches my attention more than any other girl ever could; but I choke around her.

And that sucks... big time.

I try not thinking about Weasley, or her beauty or her tendency to ignore me, so I walk down to the grounds. Maybe an hour of flying would help me clear my mind, focus on school and forget about the redhead for at least tonight.

But there's someone at the Quidditch pitch; not flying precisely, but sitting on one of the few low benches the pitch has for extra players. I keep walking, trying to make out who's the one sitting out here at night by him or herself. As I approach the stranger, I can see the outline of shot hair and a wide back. It must be a bloke. Then someone else appears and approaches the guy. It's a girl and it takes me barely two seconds to recognize that walk.

Weasley sits beside the guy and for some reason I feel a knot at my throat.

"Hey you." Weasley says and I can't help but feel a harvest of jealousy. She always talks so harshly, so rudely to me; it's not fair that guy, whoever he is, gets to have her talking sweetly to him.

"Hey you." The guys says back.

I believe I have heard his voice before. I'm pretty sure I know the owner of that voice; but I can't remember who he is.

"How's everything going? Are you worried no more?" The spiteful guy asks.

"Everything is fine. But I'm not fully relaxed just yet." Weasley tells him, her voice sounding so small and so sweet.

There's a pause. I duck down in order to get closer undetected. I hide behind a column and sit on the floor. Yeah, yeah, eavesdropping is bad; whatever, I can't help it.

"You still worried about your dad?"

"Yeah."

I feel rather surprised at Weasley's answer. Well, not precisely her answer, but the sigh that accompanied it. What's wrong with her dad?

There's another pause. I know I shouldn't let my emotions get the best of me, but it really isn't fair how their silence seems so much more comfortable than Weasley's and I's discouraging ones.

"So how's Malfoy?"

Wait, I know whose voice that is. If there's a person that pronounces my surname in a less fondly manner than Weasley herself, it is Albus Potter.

For some reason, realizing Weasley is talking to her cousin, brings some relief to my system. I'm not really sure why I felt so jealous when I didn't know Potter was the one sitting beside Weasley; but at the moment, since the jealousy seems to have left me, I'm more interested in knowing the reason behind Potter's question than the seed that spread such emotion in me.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" That's the Weasley I know.

"Because I don't like the bloke". Potter says, a annoyed tone dressing his voice.

Well I don't like you either, you prick.

"Then why do you even ask about him? Weasley asks inpatient.

"Because I care for your sanity." Potter replies softly after a short pause.

"My sanity is just fine."

I guess I'm not the only one who Weasley talks meanly to... Hmph, and for some reason it makes me unexpectedly happy to know Potter gets to be talked to that way by his own cousin.

"I apologized today." Weasley says after a while. "I told him that I'd try being nicer to him. But he said nothing, so I guess he's not interested in making things right."

Wait, what? What did she just...?

"Maybe he didn't know you were apologizing. You can be quite rude at times. Rude enough for people to misunderstand what you say." Potter replies.

Yeah! I agree with Potter!

"Well, I wasn't rude. I specifically said I was sorry for locking him out, for his fall; for everything really." Weasley replies rather annoyed "And still he said not one word."

Oh, no, no, no, no. I was in shock! I meant to say something, I swear! She just didn't give me enough time to react!

"Well, that's just plain ungrateful." Potter says. I can imagine the face of disgust his making "After what you did for him, he should have at least accept your apology."

Right, thanks you prick.

"Well...uhm..."

"You didn't tell him?" Potter asks sounding rather surprised.

"No." Weasley replies bluntly.

What didn't she tell me?

"Why not?" Potter wonders.

"Why would I?" Weasley says, her voice sounding less rude but it won't go back to it's previous sweetness "He doesn't need to know."

What don't I need to know? And who is she to decide to hold information from me?

"So what now? He'll be mad at you forever when you stayed all night in the infirmary to make sure he was still breathing? Not to mention most of the next day?"

What? No, I must have heard wrong.

"Oh, right. I forgot who I was talking to. Unlike a normal person, _you_ rather not be acknowledged in those few moments of humanity you have than admitting you were worried about anyone." Potter mocks his cousin.

"Oh, shut up Potter." Weasley says, she punches him in the arm and stands up. As she retreats, Potter lets out a chuckle and rans off to her mumbling he was just messing with her.

But at the moment I couldn't care less if Potter telling Weasley she wasn't humanitarian was a mockery or not.

All along I had thought Weasley had just done her part on taking me to the infirmary after I fell. Not in my wildest dreams had I thought she'd stayed with me. Well I did imagine her holding my hand and being the first thing I saw when I woke up; I imagined her crying over me; but that was it, my imagination; she had been imaginary. It feels too unexpected to know the real Weasley, the one who has always disliked me, the one that's rude and cold to me; stayed by my side, not holding my hand, not crying, but nevertheless, she had been worried enough to have missed a night of sleep and half day of class.

I'm still sitting on the floor, my mind racing. I should have said something. I should have apologized too. Now she's mad at me for being such a bloody coward! Merlin!

I stand up and start dragging my feet towards the castle. I don't feel like flying anymore. As I enter the castle, I realize I'm starving; but I'm not in the mood for Luke's inquisitive eyes. So I keep walking upstairs, hoping I can manage to find a way to make up with Weasley.

But really, is it even worth it? I mean, she's upset with me because I didn't say anything as a response to her apology. How immature is that? I'm in all the right to say nothing. For all she knows, to me, she doesn't care.

But now, I _do_ know she does. And not only that; but this means she was serious about what she said this morning. This means she does want us to communicate. And it is the most reasonable thing to do, you know. We have to coexist in the same tower for the rest of the term; so we ought to be able to have a good communication; be friends in the most extreme case. So maybe I ought to do something about this whole thing. Maybe, I could manage to patch things up. The way I'll do it, I can't imagine; but I know that if I control my nerves and don't shrink from Weasley, the answer will come to me.

I keep walking and before I realize, I'm in front of the paint. I say the password and walk in the common room.

Weasley is sitting in the same puffy chair she sat in the morning, once again, her back to me.

As I stay standing in front of the entry, I realize that maybe it's not too late to say something about this morning. Maybe I can fix this now, fast and easy. And even though she still makes me nervous as hell, for the first time since I had to face Weasley in the train on the way to school; I think I know what to say.

I take a deep breath and walk over to the fireplace and place myself between the fire and Weasley's chair, facing the red head. She looks up at me from her book and I found myself surprised by the look of her face.

Unlike every time she's looked at me, her hazel eyes aren't sparkling, they aren't blunt in their dislike towards me, they aren't cold; they are _tired_, just plain tired.

"Scorpius Malfoy." I say and pull my hand up, expecting a hand shake.

Weasley's tiredness seems to transform in blunt confusion.

"I know that when you said you wanted to start over you didn't mean to go back in time six years, before you knew my name and I knew yours." I managed to say flawlessly. "But I'd like it to be that way. I'd like to forget whatever happened between us in those years and get to know you for what you tell me, rather for what I've heard from anyone else." I finish.

I watch as Weasley's eyes open wider by the second; I can finally see her thoughts in the nude. I can see she's realizing that I'm accepting her apology and that what I'm trying to say is that I'll try as well.

"Rose Weasley." she says after a few seconds, catching my hand in hers and shaking it.


	8. Slightly Closer

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter's series, characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: OK, chapter 8 done. I'm really sorry about the spelling errors the last chapter had. My actual language is Spanish, and the whole point in writing fics in English is to polish my grammar; so, sorry if I slip. Anyways, hopefully this chapter is better written.**

**With nothing more to add, happy reading and please review. :)**

**Chapter 8**

"**Slightly Closer"**

"You look overly happy today."

I turn my head to Elle's sleepy looking face as she takes the vacant sit at my left.

"I _am_ happy." I reply, a little smile lingering on my lips.

"Is there a reason for you to be?" Elle asks sounding a little annoyed.

"What are you talking about? I am a happy person." I say looking at her, a frown forming on my 'happy' face.

"No, you're not, mate. Usually you seem to be too caught up in your thoughts to translate as a happy person." Luke says unexpectedly as he takes the sit in front of me.

"No, I don't." I mumble like a spoiled child.

"Why are you happy anyway?" Elle asks.

"Nothing in particular." I say, my voice sounding as dreamy as Luna's, the Headmaster's daughter.

"Right." Luke chuckles.

Silence steps in then as Elle, Luke and I continue our breakfast.

Truth be told, the source of my dreamy mood is Rose Weasley. What a shocker, isn't it?

I know it was barely yesterday when we decided to go back to square one; but I can't help feeling like I'm laying on a cloud and flying far away from anything that ever made me feel bad. You see, after the hand shake that officially sealed our truce; Weasley smiled at me. No, it wasn't the small smile she had when she congratulated me; it was different. I don't know what kind of smile it was exactly, but she has never looked more beautiful to me. That smile alone made my heart beat faster, and surprisingly, it didn't make me nervous.

I always thought I'd blush deep red if she ever smiled at me, just like when she stares for too long. But last night, I realized that her smile only brings comfort to me, instead of the swirling of my insides.

So at the moment, I'm surprised to find myself wishing the day would end quickly, just to have her smiling at me once more. But don't get me wrong, I'm not as delusional to believe she'll smile at me every time she sees me. We agreed on starting again, we agreed to a real truce; we are not friends... or at least not yet.

.

OOOO

.

"I hate you."

I look up from my bag to the person who spoke.

Luke's starring at me from the opposite bench with a mixture of tiredness and annoyance in his eyes.

We just finish our second training session and he already hates me; how comforting.

"And why is that, my friend?" I chuckle, perfectly aware of the reason for his behaviour.

"Weren't you going soft on us at first?" he asks, resting his head on the wall behind the bench.

"I did; last weak we just flew around. The Ravenclaw team has been announced already. Hufflepuff's try-outs are next week and Gryffindor's formation comes out tonight." I remind him in a serious tone "If we really want to win, we have to take it seriously now."

I look back at my friend, seeking for comprehension; but I can't find any. He looks as annoyed as he was during the training.

"You do realize this is just a game, don't you?" he says, his voice mocking me "This is not your future, Scorpius. This is just a hobby, nothing more." he says, his olive eyes starring at my grey ones as his lips twitch into a smile.

He then stands up and starts changing.

I know what this looks like. I know it looks like Lucas Zabini, my best friend, doesn't approve of my dream; but that's not it.

The thing is, he doesn't know how much this game means to me.

I know, I know; how could he not know when he's my best friend? Well, because I just won't let him.

I really don't understand why I would have to tell Luke absolutely everything I happen to believe. I have a different conception of what a real friend is than most people. I don't need to know them upside down, and they don't need to know me that well either. A friend to me is just someone I know will be there when everything is wrong. I know Luke will always have my back; and hopefully he knows I'll always have his. But no, he doesn't know what my aspirations are; I don't think he even knows if I have any. He's not a bad friend. I'm just a really reserved person.

A lot of people say I'm cold; they say I never seem to care; they say it's like I'm somewhere else, never paying attention. They say I won't open up to them; they say I may not be a real human even. But what can I say?

I'm sorry I don't talk about my personal life. I'm sorry I don't speak about my family. I'm sorry I won't say what's on my mind. I'm sorry I don't feel much. I'm sorry I don't talk feelings.

That's just the way I am. I want to change; though, it's not easy.

As my thoughts keep me away from the present time, I have not yet realized I'm the only one left in the lockers.

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. Then I change quickly, turn off the lights and head out.

As I walk I can see my team's silhouettes walking, pushing each other; I can hear them mock each other on tonight's training. Then one of them, Luke, stops walking and turns around. He stands there, letting the others walk past him as he waits for me to catch up.

You know; maybe I should try talking more often to him, about my thoughts and all. Maybe it'll be soon; or maybe not.

I don't think I qualify as a shy person; I just built these walls around me a long time ago. I know I ought to let them down; but it's hard. Up until now the only thing I've managed, is a door. Luke is at it; but he doesn't have the key.

I wonder if there will be someone to make my walls crumble, just like in the movies. I'm not sure if it'd be as smoothly as the movies make it look; I just don't want to get hurt in the process. Although, maybe that's too much to ask.

It doesn't matter though. I will change; I don't care how much time it takes me, I will not die before I can prove, at least to myself, that I _am_ a human as well.

.

OOOO

.

I hate essays.

How am I supposed to write my own conclusions about a subject that has indisputable conclusions as it is!?

Bloody hell

Here I am, in the common room, trying to do a Defence essay and mumbling to myself how annoying it turns out to be.

It's 9:15 and I'm as tired as one can be.

"OK, focus Malfoy, focus." I turn the page back to the beginning and start reading "The twelve ways to use Dragon's blood were discovered by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, legendary wizard and wise man." I sigh "OK, let's skip the intro, shall we?"

"If you skip the intro, you'll have less to write, won't you?" I hear a annoyed voice behind me.

I turn around to find Weasley walking from the entry to one of the comfy chairs by the middle of the circular room. She slumps onto the chair with a sigh and closed eyes. She looks rather tired... and pretty. Her hair is splattered across the cushion's fabric.

But who cares how she looks? She's less than 5 feet away from me!

I try looking back at my book and focusing, just to fail miserably. She's addictive.

I'm not much of a leg-lover, but her legs are driving me nuts! Yes, nuts as in I'm-ready-to-jump off-the-astronomy-tower-for-this-girl nuts! As much as I appreciate skirts, just like the rest of the male population, I cannot help but damn the bright mind who invented them! The delightful clothing item is supposed to be covering Weasley's thighs, not riding up!

OK, just breathe; don't blush, don't run away, just take a deep breath... And for Merlin's sake, say something, you git!

"Tired?" that's all you can say? Idiot

"Tired would be an understatement." she says, her voice husky.

I look at the fireplace. Maybe not looking at her would make the situation less suitable for my burning cheeks...

Yeah, it isn't working.

I turn slowly to look back at her, hoping her eyes are still closed and so she doesn't catch me starring.

Yeah, eyes shut, legs up on the chair, skirt at her middle thigh... and her chest moving up and down in a peaceful breathing process... wait, did she fall asleep?

I stay there, sitting on my ass, as I keep looking at her. She does look more than tired; she has light lilac circles under her eyes. I wonder why. Didn't she sleep well?

Then a few faint sparkles near the entry catch my attention. I stand up a little alarmed; but it's only a sheet of the daily evening news. I walk over to the board; it's the Gryffindor's Quidditch team for this term. Potter's the captain, as expected, seeker of course. Weasley's little brother got the keeper's spot. Another Weasley, Fred I believe, Luna Longbottom and Lily Potter got chosen for chasers. Nicolas Wood is one beater, and the other one is...

"Did I get it?"

I turn around faster than I would have wanted, only to almost crash into Weasley. How does she get so close without me noticing her?

Too shocked to think clearly, I say nothing, and just move away from the board so she can see for herself she did earn her spot.

"Congratulations." I mumble as soon as I find my voice.

"Thanks." she says. Her back's still at me, but from the sound of her voice, she must be grinning.

The marks under her eyes and the husky feel to her voice, both make sense now, since she had to wake up early for the try-outs.

Not knowing what else to do, I go back to the fireplace, but sit on the couch instead of the floor. I try calming myself down. I promised to myself not to run away from Weasley anymore; but its hard not to turn the other way when you feel nervous about your current situation. I must admit, though, I'm not panicking; and _that's_ something. Usually, nervous doesn't cut it. But tonight I don't feel as helpless as I normally do. Maybe its because the little exchange of words has been nice for now. Maybe its because I know she doesn't hate me. Maybe its because I just found out she's a beater. Maybe its because now I know we have something in common, other than our age.

Too caught up in my thoughts I didn't notice Weasley getting near me, until she slumped onto the floor in front of me.

"You took my place." she says as her eyes scan my stuff all scattered across the low table in front of her.

"Yeah, sorry." I mumble.

I stand up and go to the table to gather my stuff. This might be the perfect chance to go to my room without making it look like I'm running from her, yet again.

"I don't mind you." she says, her voice still as cold as it always is when she talks to me.

I stay there, on my feet, looking at the red head sitting near me. She doesn't mind me. But do I mind her? She still makes me act so unlike myself. She makes me shy away, she makes me want to escape, she...

Wait, escape? Do I want to escape? Yes, I do. Should I though? No, I shouldn't

I'm tired of being a coward. So if she doesn't mind me; then I won't mind her. She's just a girl; yes, she makes my inside twirl, she makes me slightly dizzy; but she's_ just _a girl.

I put my parchments back down on the table and sit on the floor next to Weasley, facing the fire. Slowly, I turn my eyes to her, making sure I don't move my head so I won't catch her attention. She's just writing, and she doesn't look bothered or annoyed, so maybe she really doesn't mind if I work in the same table. Besides, being who she is, if she did mind, she would have told me there was another table at the back of the room. She didn't drive me away; and that's a good sign. That means I'm not the only one that took yesterday's exchange of words seriously.

Time keeps rolling forward as silence sinks on us. She won't say anything; then again though, neither will I. So I just take my book once more and try writing my bloody essay.

Surprisingly, not only am I able to start writing, I find myself enjoying the evening. No, neither of us has said anything; but this silence feels better than any other. No, it's still not as comfortable as the silences she shares with bloody Potter... but it is getting slightly closer.


	9. Who knew

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, it's character or settings. All you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. **

**A/N: I'm proud to present to the ninth chapter of this story. I know weird day to upload; but I won't be able to upload this weekend due to a family's reunion.**

**Hope you like it, happy reading and please review! :D**

**Chapter 9**

"**Who knew"**

"Here."

I look up from my Charms book to Weasley's slightly freckled face. Her hazel eyes seem as cold as usual, but her jaw is relaxed and her voice sounds rather nice. I look at her hand. She's handing me a sheet of paper.

"What is this?" I ask in a small voice.

"The list of things we have to get done for the Halloween Ball this weekend." Weasley says turning around and walking a couple of feet to her seat. As she starts gathering her stuff, I realize the class is over.

Why am I so bloody oblivious to the things that surround me?

"Have you got practice tonight?" she asks as she returns to stand before me.

"No."

"Then let's go over the list after supper, shall we?" She says rather than ask, and turns her back at me once more, this time heading for the classroom doors.

I stare long at the doors long before I, too, grab my things and head out myself.

A week has passed since Weasley and I came to an agreement. So far it's been rather nice; though things aren't quite going the way I would want them to. Don't get me wrong; Weasley's actually talking to me, and that, I believe, is something already. The problem lies within myself.

For some reason I still can't talk to her comfortably. I don't choke like I used to a month ago; but the words still don't come out as easy as they ought to. You could say we finally found common ground, but apparently my guts didn't get the memo. Despite my cowardly left overs, I believe we're moving forward, not fast enough, but forward nevertheless. Better that than nothing, right?

Still, it's really bothering me now. I don't know if she cares or not how little I seem to tell her; but I do. You see, she might talk to me, but she doesn't tell me much. Our conversations are always about the duties we ought to fulfil as Heads. We don't even talk about Quidditch, even it we both seem to enjoy it. We don't talk about what we like or dislike, we aren't knowing each other at all really. And I'm pretty sure it's my fault.

No, I don't have low self-esteem if that's what you think; I just won't say anything. And if there's something I've realized about Weasley so far, is that she's more like me than I had ever thought. Based on our always school-related talks, I can conclude she's quite a reserved person. So, I'm guessing that if I don't ask something about her, she won't say much. She seems to be trying hard though. She hasn't gotten mad at me for my lack of questions or my short answers. That is big to me; real big, since I don't think she's a rather patient person, and she seems to be waiting for me to start talking quite patiently.

Nevertheless, I'm proud of the little advance we seem to have made. We may not talk often or share much information about each other, but pleasantly enough, those awkward silences have disappeared almost completely. We even have some sort of routine for evenings. Well, we just do our assignments at the low table in front of the fireplace and it's only been this week, so I guess that's not much of a routine. Still, we spent three nights in a row sitting side by side after supper doing homework; and that has helped me feel a little more relaxed around her. So all I've got to do now is get to know her; although, to achieve that, I should start talking more often, shouldn't I?

"Yes, you should."

"What?" I turn to whoever it is that, apparently, read my mind.

But, to my dismay, it's just Charlotte

"Whatever it is your wondering to do or not, you should." she tells me again.

I stand there, looking at the blonde witch. Her pale face looks perfectly innocent, if not a little happy. I wonder why is she so bloody happy for. And how come she knows I'm having trouble deciding what to do. Am I that bloody predictable?

A few seconds pass and I realize I've been starring, so I snap my eyes away from her boring brown ones and turn around, ready to keep walking,

"Ugh, I know you're still mad at me, Scorpius," Charlotte says behind me as I make my way to the Great Hall through the river of starving students "but we ought to talk about it sometime!" she ends up shouting across the hallway, gaining me more stares than I would like to attract upon myself.

I stop walking then and turn back to face her. I don't care if there's a million people watching; if she wants to talk we'll talk.

"What is there to say, Charlotte?" I ask her, my voice dangerously low "You cheated on me, end of the story."

"It's not like that." she says in a pitiful attempt to look cute.

"Right, you must have had a reason, yeah?" I snap at her "Tell me _Charlie_, was it because I didn't buy you enough jewellery?" I wonder aloud walking slowly towards her "Was it because I didn't take you out everyday? Was it because I wasn't good enough for your almighty self?" I keep asking, my voice raising without me noticing it.

Charlotte keeps quiet, looking down at the floor. I'm tired of this. She wanted to clear things up; so why the bloody hell is she looking so pitifully sorry about what she did to me!?

"Oh, right, I wasn't spending enough time in you bed, was I?" I say, not caring how many people were surrounding us by now. I want to humiliate her as much as she humiliated me when this whole affair was made public. "So you went running to my supposedly best friend and fucked him."

Then, she looks up at me, burying her brown tearful eyes into mine.

"It wasn't like that!" she yells back at me.

"Then how come you and Leo ended up in the same bed, Charlotte!?" I end up yelling at her, incredibly frustrated now

"It wasn't my fault entirely!" she says in a pathetic try to look less like a slut.

"Are you implying _I'm_ to blame here!?" This is the last drop "How dare you! I never did you wrong! I never cheated on you! I never even thought about it! I treated you like a queen! I bought you all you called yours! I gave you all I had, Charlotte!"

"You didn't give me your heart." she says then quietly as tears begin to roll down her now flushed cheeks "You never opened up to me. You never told me what was on your mind. You never really cared." She keeps on as her voice begins to break "You never loved me."

Then Charlotte turns around and runs away, leaving me confused and surrounded by an unforgiving audience.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"You shouldn't have said that."

I try to look up, but my cheek is stuck to the table. I lift my head, making my cheek sore and most definitely looking all bright and pink.

Elle sits before me; which surprises me a little. I'm sitting in the most remote part of the library, sulking and slightly regretting letting my emotions get the best of me this afternoon.

"She asked for it."

"She asked for a word, Scorpius, not public humiliation." Elle says, her voice strangely cold.

"I'm not apologizing, Elle. Not to her. You know it serves her well. I had been pretty nice up until now not bringing it up." I say and go back to put my cheek against the table.

"She won't stop crying, Scorpius."

"Well, that's not really my fault. If she only had been faithful, none of this would have happened." I say, not bothering to look at Elle's dark eyes.

"You can't really blame just her," she says, still as cold as an iceberg "you're partly guilty."

"What?" I snap my head up "Oh, please Elle! Right, sure I told her to go have fun with someone else!" I say quietly; we are in a library after all.

"Did you ever told her how much she meant to you?" She inquires, glancing down at me way too unfriendly "Did you ever told her you loved her?"

"No." I admit after a minute or so

"_Were _you in love with her?"

I look up from my hands to Elle's set face. I intend to look at her in the eye, but for some reason, I can't.

"I-I don't really know" I reply "I'm not sure how falling in love is supposed to feel" I say in a rather small try to defend myself.

"Did your heart race faster when you saw her?" Not really "Did your hands ever go sweaty?" Always as dry as bone "Was it hard to breathe when she dressed up?" I don't think so "Did you ever simply felt too much for her?"

"No." I finally say out loud "But that doesn't mean I-"

"Yes, it does mean that, you git." Elle cuts me off and then I manage to look at her eyes. "She's right when she says you never loved her." she says, every word sounding slightly hurtful "Because if you did, you _would_ know how falling in love is supposed to feel." She finishes me off.

Then, after giving one last cold stare, she stands up and leaves me alone at the hidden table.

I sit there, stooping a little as I stare at the smooth surface of the wooden table before me.

Maybe Elle is right. Maybe it wasn't only Charlie; maybe I too am to blame in this whole thing. The truth is, I never told her much. I'm not a naturally open book; if there's something I'm better at than Quidditch, is how to deceive people into thinking they know me, when they know nothing at all when it comes to my real self. I have to admit, I can't really trust someone I don't want to trust in me. Honestly, the less I know about someone, the better. That way, betrayal and disappointment hurt less. Because I'm afraid that if I had in fact given Charlotte my heart, as she so lovingly puts it, I would have ended up way madder and hurt than I am to begin with; or even worse, heartbroken.

I'm proud to say I had never let my heart be broken after my mother's death; and I'm not planning to any time soon, or better yet, any time at all. And if that means someone else ends up hurt and wishing never to love again; I can't do anything about it really. I guess that makes me a selfish person, and I know that's bad and that I'm supposed to want to change that about myself as well; but to be honest, I don't want to. I don't want to feel pain anymore; and letting my guards down might just get me the one thing I can't handle.

I can try opening up a little, but I'll never reach the kind of openness Charlotte would have wanted to see. I guess I do feel a little guilty after much thinking; but I don't think I'm ready to apologize just yet. When she bends her head and admits she had most part of the fault, then I'll apologize to Charlotte Goyle. I will not be the first to say sorry; not when it wasn't my fault directly. Yeah, OK, I didn't pay much attention to her, I neglected her; but she could have handled it better, she could have been strong, instead of leaving herself to fall into temptation.

I know I'm pretty much an arse; but hey, at least I'm considerate enough to feel guilty about it. Nevertheless, at the moment, I wish I was a really wanker; so I wouldn't care; my bloody head hurts from so much bloody thinking.

I intend to stand up and go take a shower, but as I raise my eyes, I notice someone who seems to have been quite a while sitting right in front of me.

"I almost thought you were ignoring me on purpose." Luke says as he puts his legs up on the table. "Elle told me what happened, is there something you'd like to share?" he says. He seems a lot more carefree than he usually is.

"Not really." I reply, tired of having to defend myself for today. "And if you're here to tell me what a git I am, there's no need, Elle pretty much did already." I say, getting up.

"I don't really think it's your fault either. Besides I cannot stand Charlotte, nor I did before." he says smiling as he too gets up.

I chuckle slightly. No, Luke and Charlotte never got along well. Together, they were almost dangerous. And not having to listen to them bickering, is the best thing that the break-up brought.

"Wonder what's for supper. I'm starving." Luke asks taking my mind off Charlotte and Elle and reminding me I too need food.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I'm so stuffed, I can't even walk properly.

I finally reach the Head's entrance and say the password. I walk in, for the first time this term, truly aware of who will be at the other side of the paint.

As expected, there she is, wearing only the school's uniform bottom up shirt and grey skirt, her red and gold tie lose. Her hair is up in a lose bum and few bangs cover her forehead a little. Bloody hell, Merlin, do you hate me that much?

Weasley turns her head around to the entry, where I'm still standing like an idiot.

"Hi." she says as she turns her head back to the many parchments that cover almost the entire table.

"Hi." I manage to say.

OK, I can do this. It's just a work; when it's done, I can go.

Wait, what the bloody hell? You're not going anywhere, you git! You said you weren't going fast enough, so speed it up! Do the work and then gather some guts and get to know her, you coward!

OK, _OK_!

I take a deep breath and walk over to Weasley. I leave my bag on the couch and sit on the floor, next to her.

"So, what do we need to do?" I ask warily.

"Not much." She says going through some parchments "Just designate decoration committees, decorate the Great Hall, notify Headmaster Longbottom about the band, choose the menu for the supper, retreat the candies from the shop, arrange the permissions for suspending classes that afternoon and why did you call Charlotte Goyle a slut in mid hallway?" she finishes, turning her fiery hazel eyes on me.

It takes me about five seconds to understand what she's saying.

"I didn't call her a _slut_." I say after a short pause as I tear my eyes from hers and look down at my hands.

"You were about to." she says, her voice a little colder than this morning.

"Yeah, well, because that's just what she is." I reply as cold. I'm getting tired of people trying to make me feel guilty about it.

"I heard about the whole cheating thing," she says after a while. "but..."

"But what?" I ask, rather aggressively.

"I don't know." she says, her voice not so cold now. "I just thought you were better than that." she finishes, turning her hazel eyes back to the stack of paper in front of her.

Surprised, I look back at her. For some reason, my heart starts beaten faster. She believes me to be a better person than I thought, who knew?

"Usually, I am." I say after a couple of minutes, turning my gaze to the fire. "I just had it. She just says 'get over it' or 'I can't believe you're still mad at me' and that sort of thing. But she's never apologized for what she did, and to blame me for it was just the last drop. So I snapped."

Whoa! Where did _that_ come from?

"Well, I don't think it's fair for her to blame you entirely." Weasley says after a small silence. "But, that doesn't give you the right to throw in her face what she did, especially in public."

I look at Weasley for what I believe is the third time in half an hour. Her eyes aren't as cold as usual, though her voice sound serious. As I keep quiet, she turns to the parchments, yet again.

"I thought you didn't like Charlotte."

"I don't," she replies, as she writes a few things on a spare paper. "But no one deserves that."

Ouch. OK, now I truly believe I'm the biggest wanker in the entire bloody world.

"Then again," she says suddenly "no one deserves to be played with like that either." Then she raises her eyes, meeting mine and smiles; a small smile, not the one that melts me, but a smile nevertheless. "Shall we continue with the Halloween preparations?" She asks as she tears her eyes from me and keeps writing.

OK, maybe I did cross the line today; but Weasley is right: If _I _am a wanker, then so is Charlotte.

"We shall."


	10. Common Ground

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, it's character or settings. All you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. **

**A/N: Ok, so I'm done with Chapter 10. It was rather hard to finish because I wanted to write a few more things; but that would make this chapter too long. So, expect a really interesting chapter for next week (if I can post, because the my semester is coming to an end and I have a bunch of things to do for the next couple of weeks). Oh, by the way, my beta (yes, I have found a beta :D) told me I should say who's POV every chapter is, so I will tell you right know, all chapters are and will be written of Scorpius' point of view; if that changes (which is bound to happen anyway), I'll let you know.**

**So, I hope you like this chapter; Happy reading and please review!**

**Chapter 10**

"**Common Ground"**

"Eleanor! Getting to the loop and not scoring isn't going to give us the win against Gryffindor this Saturday!"

Last Quidditch practice before our first game, and we're sucking; well, sucking would be an understatement... Let's just say that we go on like this, even a bunch of six-year-olds would beat us.

"I had to fly past it! Luke would have knocked me off my broom if I didn't!" Eleanor shouts from across the pitch.

"Big deal!" Luke yells back, scaring me to death. I didn't know the git was so close to my ear.

"Hey, I'm wearing a short dress for Halloween! I don't have enough time to make a bruise-cover-up potion!" Eleanor shouts as she goes back to her initial position near me. "Git!"

"What difference does it make? Bruises or not, nobody is asking you to be his date!" Luke shouts back.

Bloody hell, where did their sense of consideration go? Do they have to shout so bloody close to me!

"Alright, stop it you two!" I shout just as loud. I've had it!

"Can't we call it the night?" My last chaser asks as he flies lazily towards us.

"No, Francis, we still have got two more rounds to go!" I say, still in loud mode, making the third year boy wince.

"I'm outta here." Leo says as he starts descending.

"Stay right there Zabini!"

"What's the point Malfoy? It's already dark! I can't look for the snitch like this!" He yells back at me.

"I don't care!" Why is my team acting like a load of spoiled brats!?

"It really _is_ late, Scorpius." I hear from a little above my head.

"None of that, go back to the loops Edwin."

"I have to go." Eleanor suddenly says.

I stare at her for about three seconds.

"What do you mean you have to go?" Did she forget it's the captain who decides when anybody leaves?

"I have detention in an hour." She says pulling a very nice set of puppy eyes.

"OK, that leaves us thirty more minutes. Now go up Eleanor." I say.

"Actually, I have to leave now, or I won't make it in time" she says, her voice sounding little and somewhat weird.

"Fine." I say as I stare at her. I guess she's just the kind of girl that needs an hour to shower. "Alright, practice's over people!" I shout as I fly up, so everyone can hear me.

"Thank Merlin." Luke says.

As my disappointing team flies down, ending such pathetic training, I can't help but scold. They aren't supposed to be happy practice's done. By the way things are going, if we default, it wouldn't make any difference.

Bloody hell. How am I supposed to face the crowd being the captain of a bunch of losers?

I fly down to the changing rooms feeling annoyed.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Aren't you having breakfast?"

I look up from my scrambled eggs. Luke is trying to convince Elle into having something to eat, but the witch refuses. Her deep brown eyes stare at me with the most dislike I had ever seen in them. It's been like this for a day already and I'm getting a little tired of her 'I hate you' attitude; not to say that my team's lack of commitment last night isn't helping.

"OK, two things," I say glaring at her too "First: I have done nothing to you, so the glaring stops now. Two: your little hunger strike isn't making me apologize; not to you, not to Charlotte, not to _anyone_... Got it?"

I look straight into Elle's eyes. Why can't she see I'm not the one wrong here? Yes, I hurt Goyle but she hurt me first! So either Elle gets over it or our friendship comes to an end.

"No." she says as she stands up and starts walking out of the Great Hall.

"Good job, mate." Luke says as he looks at me, a frown settled on his forehead. He looks back at Elle as she's walking through the enormous doors. Then he stands up and leaves me alone.

Great. Not only is Elle mad at me, now Luke is too. I just don't understand. What did I ever do to them? Are they mad at me by association? Rubbish. I mean, the issues or discussions or arguments or whatever I have with Charlotte are just that, between her and me _only._ There's no need to get involved in other people's business. When Luke and Elle have a disagreement, I try not getting caught up in it. I don't care who's right or who's wrong; they're both important to me, so I rather not take sides.

But they can't, can they? I've know Elle a year longer than Charlotte has and still my dear friend chooses Goyle's side! What the bloody hell is that!? And well, bloody Luke backs her up! Because, apparently, girls come before mates! What a friend, really!

OK, now thanks to those bloody two, my sweet, sweet appetite is gone.

Sighing for not even being able to finish my breakfast, I stand up and start walking to the doors. Honestly, is it really necessary I go to class? Because the last thing I'll be doing would be to listen to the Professors. But I can't skip class. I'm Head, I just can't... Bloody badge and its bloody... responsibility.

"Malfoy!"

I turn around at the sound of my surname, wondering who the bloody hell is bloody disturbing me now. But surprisingly, the sight of such person is just the only one that could make my anger to dissipate... and be replaced by slight panic.

Weasley is walking closer and closer to me. Bloody hell, why does she have to look so cute all the time!? Really Merlin, what have I done to you? Have you got any idea of what's about to happen? I'm either going to blush sometime soon, so red, the entire Great Hall would get a slight idea of what I think of Weasley; or I'll come up like a complete idiot in my tries to be not so bloody obvious around her.

"Is there any possibility we can meet at lunch time rather than after supper to write the petitions?"

I come back to my cold reality as her words reach my ears. She's pretty close, but at a safe distance. Though, one more step towards me and I'm doomed.

"Sure." I say after a couple of seconds, when I finally understand what she has just said.

"Great." she says as a heart melting smile crosses her lips.

For the first time in my life I am awfully aware of my surroundings. Weasley is walking back to her table, but I'm not heading for the door just yet. I feel hypnotized, and all eyes seemed to be waiting for me to snap out of it.

Then I turn around and start walking, as fast as I can, to the exit. I must have looked like an idiot, standing there, doing nothing when I had been already dismissed. But at least I wasn't an idiot to her. Though, I'm pretty sure people are suspicious now. I mean, I usually don't care what people think about me; but my personal life is something I prefer they didn't know about. I don't like when people know whom I like or who makes me nervous or who scares me.

As I walk upstairs to the Transfiguration classroom my head goes back to a couple of minutes before. Oddly enough, that one gesture from the redhead was enough to make my foul mood disappear.

I take my seat at the end of the classroom as usual. I feel like a fool, smiling to the air as if it had a contagious smile on its own. I take my text book out, an ink flask and my quill. As I wait for the class to start, my eyes decide to take a walk along my classmates' faces. Completely forgetting the way I felt at breakfast, I wonder why they all look so bored and grumpy.

**.**

**OOO**

**.**

It's finally 11:50 and I have just left my last class of the morning. I try not to rush as I walk downstairs to the dungeons. I believe Weasley's last lesson was Potions. She should be down there. I reach the dungeons after a couple of minutes. There's people leaving the classroom. I approach slowly as ten Gryffindors stare at me in confusion. What? I can't walk by the dungeons now? Gits.

I peak inside the room, finding a few more Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws gathering their belongings in a hurried manner. I guess they ought to be hungry. I keep searching for Weasley's bright red hair, but I can't see her, instead I find Albus bloody Potter's raven head still at his seat talking animatedly to some other bloke. I guess she left already.

I wonder where she is. We never agreed on a place to meet.

"She's at the library." a soothing voice says near me.

I turn my head around to find Nicolas Wood standing next to me as he lets a small group of Ravenclaws walk through.

"What?" I ask rather stupidly.

"Rose is at the library." he says again, turning his face to me this time. "Isn't she whom you're looking for?" he asks, annoyingly friendly.

"Yeah." I reply, sounding as annoyed as I am. "Thanks." I mumble and start walking away from the bloke.

"No problem." He shouts, rather than say as I keep walking.

I ignore him and hear bloody Potter's voice asking Wood what had gotten into him.

As much as I hate agreeing with Potter, I too wonder what's Wood's bloody problem. Yeah, I know, he was being nice; _that's_ the thing.

I walk and walk, dragging myself across the castle to where the library is located. I arrive and without hesitation, I walk in. No, this doesn't mean I'm braver than yesterday. It just that this place brings certain comfort to me. It reminds me of the library we used to have at home before my mum died. I like books; I like their smell; the silence they bring to my life. It's almost feels like being home; you know, a warm and welcoming place. That's what this library symbolizes to me. So walking through the doors is just as easy today as any other day; even if I'm bound to panic when I reach the table Weasley's sitting at.

"Hey." she says as she lifts her head once I approach the table.

"Hi." I greet her back and taking a deep breath, I sit in front of her.

"We have to finish writing a few petitions." she says handing me a small stack of parchments. "And then we have to pick a menu and notify the kitchens which one we've chosen." she finishes as she sorts a few parchments here and there.

"All right." I reply.

I take my stack and and put five petitions in a row. I cast a repeating spell on my quill and start writing. As I write in the parchment in front of me, the letters start engraving themselves in the rest of the petitions.

I have to admit I'm feeling a little nervous and there's no way this feeling is going away any time soon; but at least it's not as bad as it used to. Yes, my hands still sweat and my heart still beats faster than normal every time her eyes fall upon my face; especially if there's a smile on hers.

But I can't keep on like this. I really like Rose and I want to get to know her. I want to be her friend. I want to feel comfortable around her. So, I'm stopping being a coward; I mean it. No more avoiding a conversation, no more thinking too much, no more trying to be cool and coming up like an idiot. I think it's time I stop hoping I grow guts, and realize that they have been there all along.

"So why lunch time?" I ask after a short pause.

"Oh, I've got a date tonight." she says as she keeps writing.

"Um." I did not expect that. But the fact that she's dating someone will not get in my way of getting to know her. In fact, if it all goes well, in time that bloke could be me. "So, who's the lucky guy?" I ask, sounding rather interested.

"A couple of bludgers." she chuckles as she takes few more parchments.

"Oh." is all I manage. Despite my confidence in the matter, I feel really relieved she doesn't have an actual date. "Right, last practice before our first game, isn't it?"

"Yeah." she says looking up this time and slightly narrowing her hazel eyes at me.

"One practice won't change anything." I smile, or smirk; I'm not sure "But good luck anyway."

"I don't know about the rest of my team, but I certainly don't need luck." she smiles.

I nod and smile back. Then she goes back to her parchments; but I don't.

I know it looks like her ego is as big as the castle itself. But it's a beater's thing. You see, us beaters, play pretty much as independently as seekers do; but we have an advantage they don't, we can knock them out. The attack always comes from beaters; we defend our team and attack the opposite. We're pretty much in control. No, we can't block goals, but if a chaser is getting too close, we can knock them off. We can't score, but we can hit the opposite keeper. We can't catch the snitch or end a match, but we can prevent the opposite team from winning. So beaters don't need luck; all we need is a keen eye. Which I certainly have got. And if Weasley's got one too, then the first Quidditch match of the term is bound to be pretty interesting.


	11. One side of the Story

**Disclaimer. I do not own the Harry Potter series, it's characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no see!! I'm so incredibly sorry for not uploading in almost a month; my semester was ending and I barely had time to finish my assignments and study for my finals. Anyway, now I'm on summer break (even though we don't really have summer over here ^^') so I can finally write again! This chapter is pretty thrilling and you'll get to see a little bit of Rosie's personality, since this one is written in her point of view! Scorpius' parts might confuse you a little, but the next chapter will set the record straight. Oh, and I've delayed the Quidditch match to the next chapter too, 'cause it's just too exciting and too important in my storyline to not have a chapter only for it. So, sorry to those who expected this chapter to include the match, but trust me, the wait will be worthy!**

**Anyway! Happy reading! And please review!!**

**Chapter 11**

"**One side of the Story"**

If I said I'm about to do something I really shouldn't, would you hold it against me?

My intentions are good, I promise; but I don't know how Malfoy would react. He said all he wanted was for Goyle to apologize, right? I'm sure she knows she has to, but maybe she's just afraid to do so because of how it all turned out the last time she and Malfoy crossed words.

Here I am, gathering my things, as slowly as I possibly can, after the last class of the afternoon. People have gotten started on leaving the classroom to go to supper. I catch Malfoy's blonde head walking through the door. OK, I'm good to go. I look around until my eyes find Charlotte Goyle.

"Hurry up Rosie, I'm starving!" Albus' voice reaches my ears.

I look behind me and see my cousin standing next to the door looking rather annoyed as Nicolas seems to be enjoying the show.

"Go ahead." I tell them as I pretend to organize my bag.

Without thinking anything over, Albus rushes out of the classroom as Nicolas nods at me and leaves at his usual lazy pace. Once I cannot see his dark hair any longer; I stand up and walk cautiously across the room to where Charlotte is still sitting.

"May I have a word with you?"

"What could you possibly want to tell me, Weasley?" she asks, her noisy, high pitched, snobbish little voice sounding annoyed.

"I heard what happened between you and Malfoy." I tell her, keeping my eyes on her evasive ones.

"Of course you did." she sneers without looking me in the eye still. "What do you care anyway?"

"I don't." I say coldly, slightly feeling like I'm lying. "I just thought that maybe there was a reason he said all that."

"I've been called worse, Weasley, and precisely by his little fan club." She says. I believe she means the 5th years that have been chasing Malfoy around for the past three days.

I stand there as Goyle packs her quill and parchments.

"Have you ever thought about apologizing?" I couldn't help myself.

Then Charlotte finally looks me in the eye and as the seconds pass remarkably slow, I notice her brown eyes wanting to hide something from me.

"He needs to apologize to me first." she says after a short while as she looks away.

"Why would he? You cheated on him." I know she's lying. I'm sure that if I push I'll find what it is she's avoiding to say.

"If he had acted differently, I wouldn't have cheated on him." She excuses herself as she stands up rather aggressively.

"What exactly was that he did or didn't do?" Tell me Goyle. Tell me what is it really that doesn't let you accept your part of the fault.

"That's none of your business, don't you think?" she asks harshly after a minute or so.

I stare at her for a while. She can't look me in the eye and there's an annoyed frown on her face.

"Right." I say as I turn on my heels planning on leaving the room. I'll let her go. I already did what I had planned on doing in the first place. The doubt is there. The guilt is there. She'll apologize, I can almost guarantee it. If she isn't a complete shrew, if she is better than we all paint her to be; she'll admit her part and take the fault for her actions.

"I know what you're trying to do." Charlotte suddenly says, stopping me within my tracks.

I turn my head back and stare at her coldly from three seats ahead.

"I know he must have told you something about us." she says as she leans against the side of her vacant chair. "I know all he wants is for me to tell him I regret it all, no matter whose fault it was." she then looks at her nails and continues "I don't know why you care, but I'll tell you the truth, just because I'm sure you won't tell him."

We stare at each other silently for a while. She keeps on looking at her hands. But it isn't a sign of embarrassment or redemption. No, she's smirking.

"I don't regret anything." she admits as her eyes find mine "Leo is way better than him. And the only reason I need Scorpius to let it all go, is because my father has some business with his. Leo was able to repair some of the damages, but still." she finishes with that hateful smug smirk much wider than when the words first started coming out of her spiteful mouth.

Then she starts walking towards me.

"How could you tell if I'll tell Scorpius all of this or not?" I wonder out loud just when she's steps beside me, stopping her dead, like she did me. "You don't know me, Goyle."

"I know you better than you think Weasley; we _all _do." she says after a couple of seconds and keeps walking.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I'm _so_ tired. How am I supposed to be at the Ball all night if I can barely concentrate on putting Halloween decorations on the right place? This will be a long long day.

"Watch it, Rosie." Nicolas calm voice says from my left.

I turn my head to him. The bat I had been trying to charm into staying against the wall had missed its course and pasted itself against Nick's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." I sigh as I wave my wand, freeing the paper bat from my friend's robe.

"Didn't sleep well?" he asks as he walk closer to me.

"No." I say annoyed.

As I keep trying to maintain myself awake and Nick helps me with the bats, my eyes decide to scan the Great Hall. It's looking pretty good by now. The candles are perfectly placed in mid air, still not lighten up yet though. The houses tables have disappeared and have been replaced by a really large one. All the candies have been laid out and the pumpkins have been placed strategically across the Great Hall and charmed into making funny faces to anyone that walks by them. At the moment, about five people are charming the smaller decorations, such as enchanted paper bats and cotton spiders. As I watch around the volunteers, my eyes can't help but fall upon the reason I couldn't sleep last night.

Malfoy is at the other end of the Great Hall enchanting his cotton spiders. No, I didn't tell him anything. But Goyle's confession and her stipulation of me doing nothing about it weren't why I could not close my eyes last night.

'_I don't know why you care'_

Those words have been echoing in my head since I was left alone in that classroom. I don't know what to think about it all. I shouldn't care. I mean, Malfoy and I are not even friends, we have a truce, that's all there is to it. So I can't help but ask myself why I felt I had to meddle in his business. Whatever happened between him and Goyle has nothing to do with me. Although he said he only wanted Goyle to apologize. That was the most personal thing I have ever heard him say. We have barely spoken about three times in the past (before this year I mean), so why would he tell _me_, of all people, such a personal opinion. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating, but to me that kind of conversation is pretty personal.

What I cannot wrap my head around though, is the fact that I seem to care enough to have had a chat with Charlotte. Yeah, I know, Albus never lets me forget; I'm perfectly happy trying to solve other people's issues; but never mine. I know, it's stupid to get caught up in a problem that's between two people I don't even understand; that's the one thing about myself I hate the most. Apparently the only way I can be content with my life, is making the rest of the world happy as well.

Maybe I should just forget it all and start minding my own business. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself. Besides I don't think he deserves to be helped at all. He's cold as an iceberg and quiet as a mouse. He's too much of a closed book... Then again, so am I. So I guess that's the perfect way of making sure we never have a real conversation, let alone a friendship.

That's OK though. This is our last year at school; if we ever have a friendship, it is bound to come to an abrupt end anyway. I don't plan on sticking around once I graduate. I don't plan on keeping in contact with anyone really. I'm planing into actually disappearing and making my life my own.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"What are you wearing?"

"A dress."

"Really? I thought you'd just go with your school robes" Lily says sarcastically as she digs through my closet and I dry my hair. "Which one?"

"The black one." I say as I start combing my hair. "What are you wearing?"

"A dress." she simply says as she smiles to me through the mirror.

"Very funny." I say as I shake my head slightly.

"I have to go get ready" Lily says as she jumps to my bed and then slides off. "I have plenty to do."

"There are still two hours left." I say as I finish taming my red locks.

"Look who's talking." she says grinning that mischievous grin of hers.

"I have to be there an hour earlier, may I remind you." I say as she opens my bedroom door.

"Whatever!" she shouts as she crosses the common room and gets out.

I stand up as I laugh and close my door as my beautiful cousin left it open. Then I go to my closet and retrieve my dress from the hanger. I've always liked this dress. It's pretty flattering with it's thick straps and lacy skirt. The bodice adjusts to my torso rather nicely and the skirt falls loosely from my waist to mid thigh. Once the clothing item is on, I put on a pair of strap on high heels. I go back to the mirror and pull my hair into a cute bum. My make up is rather simple; a little foundation, a little pale blush, a thin black line on my upper eye lid and colourless gloss. I put on a pair of small earrings and spray a little perfume on my neck and wrists.

One last glance at myself in the mirror and I head out grabbing my wand on the way.

As I close my door, I realize I ought to wait for Malfoy; so I walk over to his door and knock softly.

"Malfoy? You ready?"

"Yes." I hear near me.

I turn my head a little startled to find the bloke sitting on one of the comfy chairs looking coldly at me.

"Oh." Is all I can say. What? My heart is still racing. He shouldn't do things like that. It's not the first time he suddenly talks, almost giving me a heart attack.

We stay there, starring at each other and I can't help but notice that, to my dismay, he looks rather handsome in his dress robes. After few seconds, that seemed like hours, I manage to snap out of it and walk across the common room heading for the door. I hear Malfoy standing up and following suit.

Soon, but not enough, we reach the Great Hall and I find my perfect excuse to detach myself from the blonde bloke in Headmaster Longbottom.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Would you like to dance?"

I turn around to meet Nick's baby blue eyes looking at me. He does this weird, overreacted bow and I laugh. He chuckles as well and takes my hand, pulling me into the dancing crowd.

A couple of hours have passed and the party is as lively as it ought to be. Nick and I dance to a rather soft, relaxing song. As we swirl around, completely against the tune's nature, I catch Malfoy walking out of the room. To be honest, that makes me a little annoyed. I don't care if he doesn't like to dance or whatever, he has to stay; it's his responsibility.

Unable to stop myself, I apologize to Nick and let go of his hand. I walk out of the Great Hall into the hallway. I look around and spot his silvery blonde head walking through the castle doors. I too make my way to the grounds and call out to him.

He turns around and when he realizes it's me who called him, his eyes turn slightly cloudy and his face goes cold, as usual.

"Uhm, you have to stay inside." I say, not sounding as annoyed as I would have liked to.

"You didn't have to talk to her, you know." he suddenly says.

"What?"

"You didn't have to talk to Charlotte." he repeats as he stares to the sky.

There's a short pause. I don't know what to say to that, truth be told.

"Did she...?"

"No, I heard you." he cuts me off.

"Oh." Apparently, that's all I can manage to say.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but why do you care, Rose?" He asks after another pause, a little longer this time.

This is the first time he's called me by my actually name and it's rather weird to hear him say it. It's not that I don't appreciate the personal level of this conversation, but it all sounds so serious, I can't help but feel taken aback.

"Because I can't help it." I say after a minute or so. If this has turned so serious, I might as well just tell him the truth. "When you told me you just wanted her to apologize, well, I..."

"I don't want your pity." He cuts me off once more as he turns to face me properly.

"It's not pity." I say rather annoyed. If he would only let me finish one sentence we could both understand why I had to bloody open my mouth in the first place.

"Then what is it?" He asks harshly as his silver eyes finally meet mine. "Never mind." he sighs after a few seconds, apparently deciding he didn't want to hear anything I had to say "Just mind your own business."

Then he walks right past me, back inside. For some reason, completely unknown to me, I want to turn around and make him listen. But I have nothing to say. I know I have to stop caring for his problems and focus on my life; not someone else's.

Sighing to myself I walk over to the Quidditch pitch. I know it's far, I know heels aren't the kind of shoes you'd wear to walk over grass; but I don't care. I don't feel like going back and having to pretend I'm feeling content and like I'm having the time of my life. I don't care if tomorrow I have to come up with a believable excuse for me disappearing from the ball. I need to clear my head. I need to remember not to take other people's issues at heart.

As I reach the lower stands, I have this strange feeling of being watched; but that might just be my imagination. I take a seat and look up at the loops of the closer end of the pitch. Tomorrow afternoon we play against Slytherin in the first match of the season. I wonder if what I did today will affect my game tomorrow. I don't usually feel guilty about helping people; then again, usually people don't know what I've done for them. This time, he knows and dislikes the help; so I guess I ought to feel as crappy as I do right now. I wonder if he'll be merciless at the game because of this whole thing.

"You're looking rather captivating tonight, did you know?" Someone says in my ear.

I turn around rapidly just to find one of the Zabini twins (Leonard, I believe) smirking smugly at me from above.

"Do you need something, Zabini?" I ask coldly as I turn back to my initial place, my back to him.

Wrong choice.

Suddenly his chin is resting on my shoulder, his arms restraining me and his lips against my neck. I tense up immediately. This is not happening. He can't do anything. He'd get expelled.

"You smell nice." he whispers against my skin.

I try hard not to shudder. I have to maintain my cool. The least anxious I seem, the better. He won't make me waver. I'm a Gryffindor for a reason. As still as I can, I try reaching for my wand, just to find my pocket empty.

"You wouldn't want to use it against me, Weasley, trust me." he says tightening his grip on me.

"Let go, Zabini." I say coldly. He can't do anything. He can't do anything. He can't do anything.

"I can't." he says imitating a sorrowful tone that sounded more creepy than sorry. "I was ordered to teach you a lesson, and so I will."

"Ordered to?"

"Yes. You seemed to have upset my Captain." he says wrapping his fingers on my left wrist.

No. No, this can't be true. Malfoy wouldn't do that... would he? Did the whole Charlotte thing made him that mad? Was it bad enough to hold a grudge against me? Is he seriously the kind of person that takes revenge this way? Through someone else? Is he really this cowardly?

Then I feel a sharp pain in my wrist. I glance down, to see it being twisted by Leonard's tanned hand. As he twists it further and the pain feels sharper than before, I fight my need to shout out loud. I will not let him have it. I will not scream or cry. I'm not weak. He can twist all he want, not one sound will come out of me.

"Does it hurt?" he asks sadistically against my neck still.

I say nothing, afraid that if I open my mouth, I might whimper.

Then we both hear a soft 'crack' and I almost lose it. My eyes go wide as I fear my wrist might be broken.

"Don't worry, love; I didn't break it." he says as he lets go.

He then, releases me and I wrap my fingers around my wrist carefully. I can't move it from the pain.

"You probably won't be able to play tomorrow." Zabini says out loud my biggest fear. "So you might as well not show up at all, don't you think?"

Then it hits me. They have left my team short on one beater. Is this what they want? Is this what _Malfoy_ wants? Is he really that sneaky? Taking advantage of this stupid misjudgement on my part to, not only hurt me, but make my team default tomorrow? Is this the way they play? Cheating all the way? What happened to the playful competitive attitude he displayed a few days ago in the library? Was he pretending then to be friendly?

Then Leonard jumps off the stands and starts walking away, leaving me alone in a dark pitch, with a bruised limb and the need to cry my eye balls out.

I cannot believe this. Was all a lie? The time he introduced himself to me, so we could start over, was that a façade? Was this his plan on the first place? Trick me into this whole mess? Did he tell me that thing about Charlotte on purpose?

'_I know you better than you think Weasley; we _all _do_'

Is that what she meant? Does Malfoy know me enough to use my own way of being against me? Am I really that predictable?

No. I will not give Malfoy or Leonard or Charlotte, the win.

They are all real fools if they think that a twisted wrist will stop me. Did he really think I'm that weak? Did he think I was just going to break in tears and let them get away with this? Idiots... All of them.

And here I was, believing I had messed it up; that I had hurt Scorpius. I knew from the very beginning he was just as bad as we all had believed. I shouldn't have let anyone tell me otherwise. He's a Malfoy. Malfoys don't change; he's just as bad as the rest of his family, that filthy little snake.

But I'm not like the rest of mine. He'll see; he and Zabini, both; will be the ones to learn a lesson.

I know I ought to tell someone; I know I shouldn't take this matter in my own hands. But I don't care. Screw authority. I'm not like Malfoy; I will take action myself.

They will see, they will _all _see; you do not mess with _me_.


	12. And So The Truth Unfolds

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, any of its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Hello everyone, I'm proud to present to you the very anticipated Quidditch Match! Yes! I've finally written the game, hopefully you'll like it. This chapter might be even more thrilling than the last one; it's time for you to see, you do not mess with Rose Weasley! Yey!**

**Anyway, happy reading, and even though I don't say it much, thank you to all those who review! It means a lot to me knowing your opinion!**

**Ok, roll the chapter! :D**

**Chapter 12**

"**And So The Truth Unfolds"**

I'm so bloody tired.

I don't understand why I could not sleep last night. The Great Hall had been enchanted so the music wouldn't escape its walls. I wasn't able to hear one sound last night, and still my system couldn't find in itself to let me rest.

I turn on my bed, spreading my arms wide as I hide my face in the pillows.

I wonder how it all went. Weasley must be really mad at me for not showing up. I know as Head Boy, I should have gone, whether I felt like going or not; but honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was to hide all night long from Eleanor and her friends in a room that really didn't give much space to hide.

I sigh and sit on the bed. For some reason I have a bad feeling about today. I don't know if it is because of the hideous last practice I witnessed or because my team might not be in the best place. I mean, knowing some of them; specially Leonard, who has no boundaries, or Luke, who doesn't give the game much importance; my players might not be in conditions of playing at their best.

Preparing myself to face the worst, I stand up from my bed and walk over to my bathroom. As I let warm water wash over, I can't help but feel too anxious for my liking. Maybe before breakfast, I ought to speak to Weasley and apologize for leaving her with all the responsibility. I cut the water and step outside the shower. After a few minutes of sulking and finally managing to get my uniform on; I step outside my room.

Weasley's door is open, which I find a little out of place. I know this qualifies as trespassing, but I can't help feeling curious about her... ehm, territory, sort to speak.

I walk closer to the room and unable to stop myself, I push the door a little further, allowing myself to step inside such forbidden place. I look around the room. For some reason I had pictured something extraordinarily girly, even though she's not a that kind of girl; thank Merlin I didn't meet such expectations. The room looks a lot like mine; a four posted bed at the side, a couple of side tables, a desk and a vanity. The decorations are red, instead of the green I'm used to seeing; other than that, the only difference would be that her belongings are placed in a pretty tidy manner, unlike my very scattered one.

I venture walking deeper into the room, there's a handful of bottles and what looks like a jewellery box on the vanity. On the side tables rest a lamp, a book and a weird looking bowl. I walk closer to the bed. The bowl seems to have the remains of an awful looking potion. Then, my feet meet a few empty flasks beside the bed. I get to my knees to pick them up. I put them on the side table and notice the book on it. It's a medical manual for wandless treatment of injuries.

For some unknown reason, I suddenly feel like I'm crossing the line here; as if I was getting too close for comfort. So I take a few steps back and leave Weasley's room.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Something wrong?" I ask Luke during lunch.

It's almost time and my team is finally awake in it's totality.

"No." he says avoiding to look me in the eye.

Luke's face looks rather strained today. I wonder if something happened last night at the Ball. Maybe it has to do with Elle. They had agreed on going together; whether it was as friends or not, I'm afraid I was not told, since Elle's still mad at me.

I try going back to my meal, but Luke's expression is worrying me. He keeps looking around the Great Hall, as if he was looking for someone or waiting for something to happen. His eyes settle first on his brother and then they go back to where Potter and the rest of his team is digging into their lunch like proper animals. Then I notice something I hadn't before.

Weasley is not at her table. Something must be going on with her. She wasn't at the tower when I woke up; she wasn't at the library; she wasn't at the pitch. I had been wondering around the castle and the grounds all morning long, and I had not seen her. I'm starting to worry. Her disappearing so suddenly on a day like this, is not normal.

OK, you've got to stop. You sound paranoid. Maybe she's just nervous, maybe she's at the Gryffindor Tower, maybe she doesn't feel like eating. Maybe I'm feeling nervous as well. Maybe I'm just seeing things.

I've got to calm down.

"OK, everyone's done, Scorpius. Shall we go?" Wyatt says, distracting me from my paranoia.

"We shall." I nod and stand up, my team imitating me.

As we walk outside the Great Hall, I notice Luke whispering to Leonard. I wonder why all the secrecy. Although I like the fact that they seem to be sharing a secret; it's been a long time since they haven't shared anything at all.

We reach the pitch and head to the changing rooms. We all wait for the girls to change, since it's '_so_ embarrassing' to wear the uniform at lunch. As the minutes pass, my eyes wonder around my team. Despite it all; they seem to be in good conditions. Wyatt looks as determined as always; Francis seems nervous, but awake; for what I saw during the meal, both Eleanor and Margaret are pretty energized; Luke does seem a little tense, but I know him; he'll get over it. Though the one who catches my attention a bit longer is Leonard. He looks smugger than usual and for some reason, he seems extraordinarily entrained playing with a wand I don't remember him buying. I wonder why he's so calm; I mean I know he's good; but this is Gryffindor we're playing against; not Hufflepuff.

Soon, I can hear the rest of the school finally getting to the stands. It's show time.

"All right, everyone," I say as the girls join us "Let's bring the Cup back home." I know it's a rather short speech; but they get it.

I stand up and walk over to the locker's doors. I kick the floor softly and fly out smoothly to the pitch; my team following suit.

"Here comes the Slytherin team." Danielle Jordan shouts with her tinny, soft voice from the highest stand of the pitch. "Eleanor McCarran, outside chaser; Francis Bulstrode, outside chaser; Lucas Zabini, centre chaser; Leonard Zabini, seeker; Wyatt Flint, keeper; Margaret Linus, blind side beater; and Scorpius Malfoy, open side beater and Captain!" she finishes as each of my players take their respective places a few inches above the ground. "And now we welcome the Gryffindor team:" Danielle continues "Luna Longbottom,outside chaser; Lily Potter, outside chaser; Fred Weasley, centre chaser; Hugo Weasley, keeper; Nicolas Wood; blind side beater; Rose Weasley, open side beater; and Albus Potter, seeker and Captain!"

Gryffindor settles in their place too, as Potter dismounts and walks over to Madame Hooch at the centre of the field. I dismount and make my way to the old witch as well. In order to make the game fair and comrade-like Potter and I have to shake hands; but as I approach the middle of the pitch; something in Potter's expression is not right; in fact, I'd dare saying, something is _really _wrong.

"I haven't seen her all day." Potter's saying.

As my eyes register my surroundings, my brain understands.

"Apparently the Gryffindor Quidditch team is missing one of their beaters." Danielle informs the rest of the spectators "Rose Weasley is not at the field."

"Wasn't she with you all morning?" I ask Potter as soon as I step into his hearing zone. "She was gone when I woke up. I thought she'd be at your tower."

"Well, she wasn't." Potter replies aggressively. Then he walks closer to me and asks through gritted teeth. "Did you do something, Malfoy? Is you the reason my cousin is missing?"

"No need to accuse anyone, Potter." Luke says, suddenly appearing beside me. "There she comes."

I turn to the entrance Luke's pointing. Weasley's walking towards us, both, bat and broom at hand.

"Hurry up, Miss Weasley; the match is about to start!" Madame Hooch shouts; turning to Potter and I then "OK, I want a clean, fair game, boys."

Reluctantly, we shake hands and turn around, each walking back to our place by our respective teams. As I step closer to my place, at the left end of our formation, I catch Luke smiling to his brother, while Leonard is as pale as a ghost.

Wondering the reason for both Zabinis' reaction at Weasley's appearance, I turn to face the opposite team. As I watch Weasley take her place, I notice her face; she looks like ripping to pieces anything or anyone who crosses her way. Then, her eyes fall upon me; and even though I'm not the kind of person who can be intimidated, I can't help but feel anxious at her eyes.

I take my eyes from Weasley and look at Madame Hooch. I feel my heart pounding with excitement as the old witch brings the whistle to her lips in what feels like slow motion.

Then, I hear it.

The sound of the whistle hasn't cut off yet, when fourteen brooms fly up high, beginning the very anticipated match between inevitable enemies.

"The quaffle is already in Slytherin's possession," Jordan says; but truth be told, her voice is the last thing I'm paying attention to.

I fly as fast as a bullet as Wood sends a bludger to Luke's direction. I hit it once it's on my reach, sending it to the Gryffindor's keeper. It is about to knock him out, when out of nowhere, Weasley appears. She hits the bludger away from her brother and right at me. Now, I wasn't expecting her to have such strength; she hit is so bloody hard, I barely dodge it. I lock eyes on Weasley and see her smile. I turn around as fast I can; but the bludger has hit Luke and the quaffle has been taken by Lily Potter.

OK, focus now Malfoy; she's tough; the game is really on.

I fly back trying to catch the bludger Weasley has hit my friend with.

"I will take Weasley! Can you handle Wood by yourself?!" I shout at Maggie as I fly past her.

I see the brunette nod and fly out of Weasley's way and into Wood's territory. Originally I had planned for her to battle Weasley and I'd take care of Nicolas; but it's better this way. Rose has proven already to be merciless and Wood is way too nice to play at his best against a girl.

I reach the bludger and hit it across the pitch to Longbottom, who has possession of the quaffle. Once again, Weasley suddenly appears from behind Luna just when the black ball was about to hit her. Weasley directs the bludger towards me and I intercept it as hard as I can sending it to Fred.

Bloody hell! She's fast!

She intercepts it once again and sends the bludger to Wyatt. I chase after it. It's going fast, but I'll catch it, I'm sure. Then, something hits my back with an enormous force. I flip in the air from the momentum the hit has produced. I manage to stay on my broom; turning around in the process. I watch Weasley smiling at me again. She sent the other bloody ball at me! How did she do that?

Then I hear a roar coming from somewhere on the stands. The first bludger she sent has hit Wyatt and gave Fred the opportunity to score.

I fly to the hoops, ignoring my aching back as I find the missing black ball, and this time, I send it across the field towards Weasley. I hope that the force I put into it was enough to catch her by surprise; but she was expecting it. She hits the bludger towards Leo this time. I fly to get it to divert from my seeker's path. I manage to make it on time, but not enough to maintain Leo undamaged. I collide with him softly as I hit the ball; but nothing bigger than that.

"Watch it Malfoy!" Leo shouts at me as I fly away from him and into Weasley's way.

Ungrateful little brat! Next time, I'll let her break your bloody face!

As I reach Weasley and face her no more than three meters away, the time seems to suddenly go slower. She's still smiling; but now I can see this is not the same smile I like seeing painting her face. No, this one is way different. This says '_I will rip you to pieces and then bring you back to clean up the mess_'. Then I see the bludger come in contact with her bat; but she just sends it softly up above her head. As the times passes slowly, almost as slowly as one breathes; I realize Weasley is just playing with the ball; just keeping it out of my reach and completely in her domain.

"There seems to be a weird kind of moment between opposite beaters at the far end of the field!" I hear Jordan say.

Then everything seems clearer. I can see Luna fail to score and Luke taking the quaffle from her, just to have Wood hit him with his bludger and Lily Potter catch the red ball once more.

"Yes, there is." Weasley says suddenly, her smile growing wider by the second.

She has made the impossible. Her strategy was perfect; she distracted me and made me stop dead in the air. As the bloody moron I am, I have lost focus on _my_ game and became aware of everything. Absolutely everything, _but_ the fact that she has a bludger on her possession and this is the perfectmoment to attack at a short range and finally knock me out.

Before I can barely move, her left arm is coming down and angling itself for a devastating blow. My eyes grow wider as I'm awfully aware of how hard my heart is pounding, every beat loud on my ear. It all looks like in the muggle movies. Everything seems to be in slow motion... until she hits the ball.

Then, time seems even faster than normal and I can see the black bullet on my face. But something happens along the way, and the bludger misses my head for not more than an inch. I'm able to actually feel the aftermath _goosh_ I always thought was a made-up sound people liked adding for dramatic effects.

Too shocked at the proximity of the bloody ball to react, I do not see Weasley flying out of my sight and reaching the bludger once more. It is just when the multitude gasps that I come back to Earth.

I turn around and see Leonard and Potter flying full speed one beside the other, just a meter above the ground, both chasing the tiny snitch. Now I get. She will prevent Leonard from catching the golden snitch and making sure her team wins. It seems she's been studying Quidditch strategies.

Finally getting my body to react properly, I turn my broom aggressively and follow Weasley; if I get lucky, I will be the one knocking a seeker, and not precisely my own.

I can't believe Weasley is actually making me rely on _luck_. How disgraceful.

As I fly closer, I understand Rose's game style. It is all like muggle ping-pong to her. Hit it softly to maintain control over the ball and then hitting it as if her life depended on it to knock out her opponents. At the moment, she keeps the bludger at her reach, way too far from mine for my liking. As I watch I can't help but wonder why is Potter the Captain and not her.

Both seekers keep reaching out for the snitch; we have all gone around the entire pitch at least twice. It'd be a funny sight if I was in Weasley's place instead of mine. She seems to be enjoying the ride. She's taking her time to hit the bludger; she must know she has just one shot and it has to be at the perfect time. But I won't let her have it. Risking getting hit directly by her bat, I fly closer and closer as quietly as I possibly can. She won't see what hit her.

To my dismay, she seems to have a better eye than I thought possible. Just when I was perfectly placed to take the bludger away once she had send it up; she suddenly looks up. We lock eyes for what must have been less than half second and then she hits the bludger with what seemed like all her might. It took me a really forced twist and a lot of speed to dodge the ball. I turn to send it back to her; but I'm late. Right at this instant, the other bludger is making contact with her bat, in the beginning of being sent towards Leonard. She has managed once more on taking me out of the way, leaving her target completely unprotected, unarmed and open to being attacked. I speed, but I know I won't make it in time.

As I'm half way to Leonard, I hear a loud crashing sound. It all happen in matter of seconds. Weasley's second bludger has hit Leonard's back, making him collide against the ground as Potter closes his fist around the golden snitch.

It's over. We've lost... Although, Weasley doesn't seem to care.

Once it has hit Leonard, the bludger, inevitably, bounces back up; just to be sent once more against the fallen seeker. Weasley keeps hitting the bludger just like she has done all the match long; but this time her goal isn't to maintain control; apparently, it is to hit Leonard as many times as she can before someone can stop her.

Finally snapping out of my initial shock at the current events (you know, us losing and Rose beating the living hell out of Leonard), I manage to get to the ground.

People are shouting; professors are coming down of the stands. Potter is shouting at Weasley to stop. But she keeps sending the black ball to the ground over and over again. Leonard is screaming like a mad man even though the bludger hasn't hit him once after the very first blow. Finally Weasley stops hitting the black ball; whether some spell made her quit or she stopped herself, I have no idea. As people gathers around Leonard, I can see Rose coming down full force. She doesn't even land, she jumps off her broom and the flying stick falls rigid to the floor as if Weasley had disowned it.

She starts walking towards the multitude, the bat still on her left hand. For some unknown reason, I panic at the sight and start running towards Leonard from the other side of the pitch; opposite to the path Weasley's currently walking.

"Rose! Rose, What the bloody hell are you doing?!" I hear someone shout as her team all run to her.

"Miss Weasley, stop right now!" a professor also shouts.

"Rose!"

"Weasley!" I yell myself.

As she walks closer, she rolls up her left sleeve, revealing some sort of strap that has secured the bat to her hand. She undoes it, finally disposing of the wooden weapon and letting it drop to the ground. Unable to stop myself from starring; I focus my attention on Weasley's arm and stop running. Her hand is hanging loosely, as if it didn't belong to the body it was attached to. There are purple and green marks on her wrist.

Weasley keeps walking; it is when she's ten feet away from Leonard, that Hugo Weasley finally gets to her and holds her from walking any further.

Unlike anyone would imagine this scene to be like, Weasley's face is gracefully relaxed as her fiery eyes are buried in Leo's pathetic figure on the ground. I finally reach the dramatic gathering and hear Weasley say:

"Bloody fool." she stares at Leonard for a few more seconds before she releases herself from her brother's grasp and walks away. Then she picks up from the floor the wand Leonard had been playing with barely an hour ago and keeps on walking, leaving a really big scene behind.

I'm pretty sure that after seeing how aggressive that petite girl had just been in the air, I'm not the only one confused by her unsettling civilized manner and cold face once she's on the ground.

"Weasley!" Professor MacMillan calls out to her.

"Rose!" Potter shouts as his cousin keeps walking.

"Miss Weasley! Stop right now!" I hear Madame Hooch shout out as well.

Weasley keeps walking away, the professors keep calling out for her, her team-mates keep shouting for her, the crowd keeps talking one over others, questioning her sanity. But none of this makes sense to me. What the bloody hell had all that been about? She lead her team into winning; we've lost because of her. So why did she just almost beat Leonard into dust?

Unable to stop myself, even unaware of my actions; I jog my way to Weasley's retreating back. Soon I catch up to her and getting hold of her shoulder, I make her face me.

"What the blood...?"

I can suddenly say no more as her hand collides with the left side of my face incredibly hard.

"Don't you dare touching me, you sneaky little brat!" she hisses at me with flushed cheeks from anger.

I take my hand up to my face where her slap has left a burning feeling as I watch her continuing to walk away. But then, she stops within her tracks and turns around once more to face me.

"Why did you do it?" she asks, her hazel eyes full of fury and something else I can't quite place.

"Why did I...? What did I do to begin with?!" She almost ripped my head off with a bludger and then almost kills my seeker, and it's _me_ who has to explain himself?

"I thought you were being honest. That you truly wanted to leave the past behind. That you were a better person now than you used to be." she says ignoring my question as she stares at the ground with those angry eyes. "I guess I was wrong, wasn't I? You are just like the rest of them; a cheating snake." she finishes this time looking me in the eye.

As she turns and walks away from me; I realize, the other thing I couldn't recognize in her eyes, was _disappointment_.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Ouch! Careful!" Leonard shouts as Madame Lalaine finishes wrapping his torso after applying some potion on his back.

Madame Lalaine ignores the tanned boy as she tightens up the wrap a bit, shutting him up. Once done, she makes Leonard recline on his pillows with her creepy mother-like manner; making impossible for Zabini to complain as I'm sure he would if this side of the nurse wasn't so loving.

I'm sitting in the next bed, my elbow to my knees, watching the funny scene. But I can't really feel the amusement I ought to feel. Weasley's words still echo in my head.

What did she mean by all that? What have I done? Not going to the Ball? Leaving all the responsibility to her almost gains me a funeral? Really? I don't know about you, but to me, if she thinks I deserve to die just because of that, it's plain crazy. I didn't know she was the kind of person that loses her mind over the tiniest thing. Although, if the reason she acted that way was because I didn't go to the ball; then why was she disappointed in me? And it doesn't explain any of the things she said.

'_I thought you were being honest. That you truly wanted to leave the past behind. That you were a better person now than you used to be_.'

What could she have possibly mean by that? Did I do something else? But what did I do?

I run a hand through my hair. This whole mess is frustrating me to no end.

"It's all right Malfoy; I'm not dying." Leonard's annoying voice says.

"What?" I ask dumbfounded, looking up at him.

"I'm not dying." he repeats "So you can stop looking so pitiful."

Bloody idiot. As if I could care less about you. The only reason I'm even here it's because I'm your team's Captain and Head Boy. If I was just part of the team, no authority involved whatsoever, I'd be gone to the dorms, just like the rest.

"Good to know." I mumble sarcastically "Where is Madame Lalaine?" I ask after a couple of seconds, noticing the nurse was gone.

"She went to look for Professor Smith." Agnatha Smith, our Head of House.

We keep quiet for a while. As we wait for the nurse to come back with the Professor, I can't help wonder how we ended up like this. I can't find anything to say to someone who used to be my best friend. If this had happened a year ago, we'd probably be joking about it or planning on taking revenge together. But no; we both made mistakes, took the wrong choices, and this is the what our friendship has turned into: silence; nothing.

As I turn my head to the windows, I can't help but ask myself if I had acted differently when everything came downhill; if I had forgiven Leonard, instead of fucking him up so bad; would we still be friends? Would we have been able to preserve so many years of trusting each other? How would it be by now? Would we still be three best friends?

Then I hear the door opening, taking me back to reality. I turn my head to the entrance, expecting to see Madame Lalaine and Professor Smith walking through it; but it wasn't them.

"Leo!" Charlotte squeals as she runs to Zabini's bed "How are you feeling?" she asks as Leonard smiles at her.

It had been a while since I hadn't seen him smile like that. I know this is my ex-girlfriend and my ex-best friend having a romantic moment, but I can't help but feel like I ought to leave.

So I stand up and make my way to the door. I know I was told to stay, and I will; just outside. I close the door behind me and sit on the floor by it. I'll just wait for Charlotte to leave, or the nurse to come back.

"Does it hurt?" I can hear Charlotte ask.

Oh, perfect, even though I'm not there, I still have to hear this all.

"Not anymore. Lalaine gave me some potion for the aching." Leo replies.

"How come bloody Weasley came to the game?" Charlotte asks a couple of minutes later.

What does she mean by that? Shouldn't it be 'How could Weasley do this to you?'.

"I have no idea."

OK, this is not right. How come he has no idea? Is it obvious she _had_ to come, I mean, she was playing.

"You didn't do anything, did you?" Charlotte asks sounding rather annoyed.

"Of course I did! What's the point of leading her to me, if I was planning on leaving her unharmed?!"

"What did you do to her?"

Both Charlotte and Leonard stare at me from the middle of the room. Charlotte's eyes have gone wide, as Zabini's face goes cold as ice. Neither of them answers my question.

"What have you done to her, Zabini?" I ask coldly as I make my way to them.

He says nothing. He doesn't even look at me. So I lose it.

Unable to stop myself , I grab Leonard by the collar of his pyjamas and crash my fist to his jaw.

"Scorpius!" Charlotte screams and tries to make me let go of Leonard.

"Tell me, you coward!" I yell "What have you done to her and why is she bloody blaming me!"

"Scorpius, please stop!"

Leonard spits blood and then he dares smirking at me. Fury boiling in me, I punch him again, and again.

"Scorpius!" I hear Luke's voice yell and I suddenly find myself restrained by my friend.

His brother spits blood once more; but I cannot see his face, for Charlotte has stepped between him and me.

"Leave!" she yells at me as if she had some sort of authority that allowed her to tell me what the hell to do.

"You have no right to order me to leave! Get out of the way!" I yell back at her and try to free myself from Luke's grasp and continue beating the shit out of Leonard.

"No, I will not! The damage is done Malfoy! Just leave it!"

"I twisted her wrist." Leonard suddenly says, startling everyone. "I made Charlotte take a polyjiuce potion and turn into you, so she could lead Weasley outside." he continues "Then Charlotte left her alone, and I hurt her."

How can this bastard speak of this so bloody calmly!

"For what it's worth!" I yell, still trying to make Luke let go. "She almost killed you anyway!"

"You're getting too ahead of yourself, don't you think?" Leonard smirks at me.

"What?" I ask, still furious.

"I didn't hurt her so she couldn't play."

"He did it because she is too bloody nosy!" Charlotte continues for Leonard. "She dared come to me and ask me to apologize to you, when it has nothing to do with her to begin with!"

I stare at the blonde witch for a couple of seconds, still completely out of my mind.

"That's not the reason." Leonard suddenly snorts.

"What?" both Luke and Charlotte ask.

I take advantage at Luke's surprise and free myself from his restrain. I'm so bloody furious, I will kill him!

Before anyone could stop me I take Leonard from the collar once again and start punching his face over and over and over again.

"You bloody twat!" I hit his nose "Why?! What has she done to you?!" I hit his cheek "After all this time! Have you forgotten the last time you threaten to hurt her?!" I hit him again "Do you want to go back to that?!"

I stop, still grabbing his collar and through all the blood and bruises he still smirks at me.

"Answer me!" I yell at him, but I don't dare hitting him anymore. "Why did you hurt her, Leonard?!"

"Because _you_ care."

Because...I... care...?

"Mr. Malfoy!" I hear someone shout.

I let go of Zabini, not because Professor Smith has yelled at me to; but because I can't find any sense on what Leonard had just said.

Because I care. Of course I care. She... She... She means everything to me. I'd rather die than see her hurt again. She's... She's the one person who matters the most in this world to me... Hold on... Does this... What does this mean?

'_Does your heart race faster when you see her?_' Yes

'_Do your hands go sweaty?' _As if I had just submerged them in the lake.

'_Is it hard to breathe when she dresses up?_' It's hard to breathe always, no matter what she has on.

I think... I think... I'm not obsessed.

I'm _in love_.

"Mr. Malfoy! My office! Now!" I turn around at this words and find myself being stared at by my Head of House, Madame Lalaine and Professor Finnigan, Head of the Gryffindor House.

I stand straight and start walking to the door like that thing muggles call 'zombie'. For the first time in my life, I am truly unaware of my surroundings. I know the professors must be helping Zabini, I know Charlotte must be the verge of a breakdown, I know Luke must be shaken up; but I cannot see or hear or feel anything at all.

It is when I close the infirmary door behind me; that I come back to Earth.

Rose Weasley herself, the reason I have almost beat Leonard Zabini's face to mere dust, the girl I'm apparently in love with, is standing right in front of me, no more than 5 feet away. She stares at me for a minute or so before I can see in her hazel eyes, she has heard everything Zabini has said.

I can't think clearly. Unable to even mumble a word to explain my behaviour I step forward and start walking ahead. I walk past her, neither of us saying a word. Even though I'm brutally confused by this all; I can't help but want Rose to stop me and... and... I don't know what else I want. But she has heard the truth. She knows I didn't even attend the Ball. She knows Zabini was acting by himself. She knows Charlotte was the one who talked to her yesterday; not me. She knows I was never part of this whole mess. She knows I wouldn't hurt her. She knows I care...

Still, she doesn't stop me.


	13. Is This The End?

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, it's characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Ok everyone! Chapter 13 done! It's sad and frustrating and happy, all at the same time! Hope you like it! Oh, I'm extremely sorry to be updated later than I had expected, I lost track of time! I'm taken a sort of summer class to move ahead, so next semester won't be too hectic! I hope you can forgive me! Special sorry to ElAmorComienza! I know I had promised you a new chapter before the weekend, I'm so sorry I broke my promise! I've been really busy, not to mention I forgot there's about 7 hours and a half difference between us!**

**Ok, I hope this chapter will gain me forgiveness! Happy reading and thanks for the reviews, by the way!! Oh! And special thanks to my beta! You're the best Nickie!  
**

**Chapter 13**

"**Is this the End?"**

_There's fog, nothing more than fog surrounding me. No lights, no colours, no nothing. I feel like I'm floating on nowhere. I feel lost, I feel numb._

_Then I hear her..._

"_How could you say those things?" she says, her voice sounding disgusted._

"_How could I say what, exactly?" I ask the fog, since I can't see her._

"_How dare you say you love me?"_

"_I just do."_

"_Liar." she almost shouts._

"_I'm not lying." I defend myself "I believe I've been in love with you since I was eleven."_

"_Well, too bad."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because, it's never going to happen." Her voice sounds louder than before, angrier as well._

"_What?"_

"_Us." she shouts " I could never love you. You're not what I want. You're a Malfoy. I'm a Weasley. I hate you, and that's not going to change." Her voice booms in my ears._

"_But... You heard Leonard. I didn't do anything." I say, in a pathetic try to make her see the truth._

"_It doesn't matter to me if you care. Just stay away and leave me the bloody hell alone."_

_I try letting her words sink in; just to realize a minute later this is not happening. This is not real. I'm dreaming..._

…

I open my eyes to find myself under a grey sky, covered by a huge tree's shadow; the wind blows softly making its leaves dance. It feels like a Sunday afternoon, even though today is Monday.

I close my eyes back again, the light bugging me. It's not the first time I've had this dream. In fact I've had worst nightmares these past few days than I've had my entire life. I keep dreaming about Weasley and her hate for me. I don't really know if she actually hates me; but I do know she isn't aware of the fact that I love her. That's why I always wake up knowing it's a dream. I haven't spoken to her at all, so there's no way she knows what I truly feel for her.

I know this sounds moronic, but I'm still waiting for her to say something. I don't really know what it is I want her to tell me. Maybe that she's sorry. Maybe that she shouldn't have believed Leo. Or maybe, I want her to tell me she cares about me too. I know it all sounds like those stupid love stories where one says 'I love you' and the other person suddenly loves them too. But hey, apparently people in love ought to hallucinate of things that might never happen.

I know she probably won't say anything at all. I mean, maybe she's decided to just keep me out of her life. After all, she got hurt because of me; or so hinted Leonard. He hurt her because I cared for her. I thought he had had enough of making my life miserable already; I guess I had it all wrong.

"Can I sit here?" I turn my head to the left, knowing who's voice that is.

Luke is standing beside me. I say nothing and turn to face the lake once more. At my lack of response, he sits on the grass, a little further than he would if we were on good terms.

"Can't we just talk about this? You've been ignoring me for two days already." he says as he takes a small rock and throws it at the lake.

"Is there something to talk about?" I wonder out loud, my voice cold as ice.

"Oh, come on, Scorp. I don't understand why this is such a big deal." he says taking another rock. "I mean, I know that hurting a girl like that is something you're against; but Leo did it, not me."

"But you knew, Luke." I say, feeling rather frustrated "You didn't seem surprised to know what he had done to her. In fact, being completely honest, it looked as if you when part of the plan as well." I couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I wasn't, Scorpius, you should know." he says sounding rather hurt.

"Then why-"

"Because I had already seen her wrist before the game." he cuts me off "And yes, I knew he was up to something; but I didn't know he was planning on hurting her." "I don't know; I thought maybe he was just going to intimidate her."

As if Rose Weasley is the kind of girl you can intimate.

We keep quiet for a while. Truth be told, I want to get as far away from Luke as I possibly can. I know he's my friend; I know he's the only person in our entire House that has analysed the situation instead of taking Leonard's side right away. But I can't stand being around people just now. I'm confused, I'm angry, I'm upset. It's nothing against him.

As I stand up, intending to leave, I turn to face Luke.

"Why did you stop me from giving him what he deserves?" I ask him, unable to stop feeling curious about it."I mean, I know he's your brother, but I thought you had left his boat."

"Even if I want to, I can't. We're family " he replies, looking at the lake ahead. "But that's no the reason I didn't let you kill him." he keeps quiet for a few seconds "You gave him the win, Scorp. You lost it. He wanted to piss you off and he did it. You fell for it all." he finishes looking me in the eye.

I stare back at him for a little while before I turn my back to the lake and start walking back to the castle.

"You know," I suddenly hear "I don't understand _why _you lost it. Weasley is just your co-Head, nothing more." I hear him get up "So why did this whole thing got you so furious?"

Not bothering to look back, I reply:

"Because I care."

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Have you got any idea of how embarrassed I am for your actions, young man?"

"Not more than you have been all my life, Father."

Draco Malfoy is starring coldly at me form the fireplace, as a handful of giant green flames flicker all around his head. It's lunch time, and here I am, sitting by the couch, listening to my father tell me how of a disgrace I am to the Malfoy name. The worst part is over; now he's just reminding me that everything I do has a repercussion on his life as well.

I let him speak; no matter what he says, it can take me back in time and fix whatever I did wrong. I know I shouldn't lose my cool like that; but it was worth my while. Leonard ended up with a broken nose and a dislocated jaw; not to mention he lost a lot of blood.

"Blaise has been foolish enough to let this all pass; but I won't Scorpius." my father goes on and on.

Right, it's not like he can do much. I'm not twelve any more.

When I was younger, he used to tell me he'd transfer me to Drumstrang and have my older cousins keep an eye on me. I've never like those two annoying little rats; so to me, it sounded like torture. But he can't transfer me now; this is my last year and two months of lessons have passed already; it's too late for the Drumstrang card now. And even if he does use it; I honestly couldn't care less. The further away I am from Zabini, the better. Although, I'm not sure how I feel about being away from Weasley now that I've realized I love her.

Starting to feel frustrated again, I decide to make myself listen to whatever my Father is saying now. And it just happens to be my worst nightmare.

"I'm getting you banned from the team." he says, his voice as cold as it always has and will be.

"What?!"

"I've sent a letter to Longbottom demanding to give you the proper punishment for your recklessness." he continues, ignoring the outrageous expression I'm sure my face is displaying "I'm still waiting for the reply. But he will do as I say. He has no other choice."

"You can't do that! Quidditch is my life!" I exclaim as I lean forward, exasperated "Do you think I'll even be _considered_ for a professional team, if I get banned from my own; when I'm Captain at that!"

"Honestly, I couldn't care less." he says looking coldly at me "Maybe that way you'll get it out of your head such ridiculous choice of career."

"Father-"

"I will not change my mind. Maybe this will get you in the right path." he cuts me off.

"That's not the path I want!" I almost yell as I get to my feet.

"You have no say in this matter."

"It's _my_ future, Father!"

"And _my_ money, boy." he says, reminding me that whatever I can or can't do is up to him as long as I live in his house "I have to go. Do not make me look worse than you have already." he says after a short while, not giving me enough time to try convincing him to back off.

Then his head disappears and the green flames come back to their normal orange-ness and size. I stare at the fireplace for a minute or so; before I slump back down on the couch.

I cannot believe this is happening. Why am I the only one paying for a crime three committed? Oh, right, because parents usually are comprehensive, while my Father only cares for himself and how tainted his reputation gets because of me.

Bloody hell.

What am I going to do now? Quidditch is the only chance I've got to make my own living. I mean, I can work at the Ministry; I have the grades to do whatever I want; but I cannot keep on living under the same roof as Draco Malfoy peacefully; how will I manage to work where I might face him constantly? I refuse to stay in England and be a 9 to 5 worker. I will not waste my life behind a desk doing something I feel no passion for, just because of bloody Leonard Zabini.

Maybe if I speak with Headmaster Longbottom, he would overlook my father's demands and let me stay on the team. But then again, as much I hate to admit it, the old man is right. Headmaster Longbottom cannot ignore a parent's 'concerns' when it comes to the son's or daughter's discipline.

I'm so screwed.

I place my elbows on my knees and run my hands through my hair. I have panicked many times in my life... but never like this. I mean, my future is crumbling down!

I shouldn't have done that! I shouldn't have hit Leonard! I shouldn't have reacted like that!

Shit! Why can't Weasley mean less to me?! If I wasn't so bloody in love, I would have been able to do the right thing without risking my spot on the team!

I know, love is supposed to be this wonderful feeling; but I can't take it. Love isn't for me! I lose my control, I'm reckless; I'm not myself. I hate this! Why did it have to happen? Why couldn't I just be obsessed; I was perfectly happy pretending this thing about Weasley was purely platonic! Why couldn't it stay that way?! Now I've ruined my chances of being happy in the long run; I've screwed myself over! Now I have to bloody obey what Draco Malfoy says! Now I have to be the one thing I didn't want to become! Now I have no other alternative but to be my Father's mini me!

And the worst part is that it's all for a girl that might hate me; a girl who doesn't give a shit what happens to me for trying to protect her! A girl who won't say a word to me! Who won't apologize or even regret the things she accused me of!

Screw her! Screw love! Screw everything!

Pissed, probably more than I was last Saturday, I jump off the couch and walk over to the portrait hole. I need to fly. I need to calm myself down and let some steam out. Maybe then, it all will be better.

The portrait hole opens up and I walk out.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

Rain is crashing against me as I keep flying around the pitch behind the bludger I took out.

I finally reach it and hit it with all of me to one of the three huge targets I've charmed the hoops into. I fly behind it, ready to hit it again, once it bounces.

I feel so frustrated.

This is probably the last time I'll be able to hit a bludger freely. This is my last training; I should be enjoying it; but the prospective of never playing again won't let me.

I hit the black ball again and send it to the middle target.

I don't know what to do any more! I've always been so sure of my actions, that not being able to come up with a back up plan is consuming me!

I keep hitting the bludger to the middle hoop; sending it back, every time it's on my reach. Each blow harder than the last.

The bludger bounces right at me once more; I hit it. It comes back, I hit it; and so. I keep releasing my anger against the black ball, over and over.

I can't believe what's happening! I don't want a normal life! I wanted to play Quidditch for the rest of my days! I wanted to live in the air more than the ground! I wanted my own life! My own rules! My own philosophy! I wanted

to be the greatest! I wanted to leave all behind and look completely ahead!

I wanted to accomplish my dreams! I wanted my life to be perfect! I wanted to do what I loved the most everyday! I wanted to be an example to the children I wanted to have! I didn't want to be a bitter man like my father! I don't want to be like him!

I don't want to wake up in 20 years and realize my life has no meaning to me! I don't want to waste it in nothing more than regret!

I keep hitting the bludger harder and harder. Each blow against the target reaching explosive sounds. I hit it back, my arm hurting. It comes to me; I hit it back, feeling tired of it all. It bounces once more and I hit it with all I have left, one last time.

It goes back to the target, this time, not leaving a spider web-like crack, but shattering the target completely and getting lost in the distance.

I stay in mid-air, watching the shattered target going back to being a conventional hoop, as rain still splashes all over.

I don't like this feeling. This oppression at my chest; it's painfully familiar. This is the one pain I had hoped never to feel again. It's the same feeling that flooded my life when my mother died. This feeling of loss; of defeat.

The same one that drove me into playing Quidditch.

A year after mum died, when I realized that she was never coming back, when it finally sunk in; I had lost it. I was mad at myself, mad at my father, mad at everything really. So I came to the pitch, on a rainy evening just like this one; and flew around.

The feeling didn't go away; but I felt better. Flying gave me peace.

I didn't want to come back to the ground. I wanted to stay up high, where the pain wasn't so crushing. Then I remembered something my mum had told my father when he first taught me how to fly. She said that I had picked it up rather fast and, that one day, she'd be at a Quidditch Cup watching her son play.

That night, I swore to myself I'd be at that match, that I'd make her proud, even though she would never be able to watch me fulfil my dreams.

Tonight, I have lost my chances to do so.

My father won't take it back. He doesn't care what my dreams are. He doesn't remember her words. I don't even think he remembers much of her. He had tried over the years to forget about her, so the pain wouldn't be so bad.

I dare believe, he has succeeded.

I sigh and start descending. As I land, I can't help but feel again like the twelve year old boy who had cried his heart out at this same pitch a few years back.

No, I'm not crying; I cannot cry. I won't let myself, even if losing one of the most important things in my life requires so. I have promised myself never to cry again. But that doesn't make the feeling go away.

So I let myself sit on the ground as the rain falls harder than before. I can feel myself drench; I'm cold, and probably shivering; but I couldn't care less. I stare at my hands, trying not to think on what is ahead of me. My knuckles aren't as bruised as they were tow days ago; but my skin is partially ripped and still, it's hard to close my fists without wincing. My back still bothers me a little, and from all the sudden moves I've been doing today, it's aching more than it should.

I stay on the ground. My anger is far gone and all I have left is that dull numbness you ought to feel when you have cried enough.

I wonder what time it is. I have detention at 8. I also ditched all my classes of the afternoon. That will probably gain me another week over the month of detention I've already got on my back for what happened on Saturday.

With all these detentions, Longbottom should take my badge away. A person worth being the Head Boy shouldn't get in so much trouble so repeatedly. Besides, he's already taking my Captain badge; might as well take the other one as well.

I let myself fall back to the ground, closing my eyes in the process. The rain feels like sharp needles as it keep crashing against me.

Then, it stops.

I open my eyes to the sudden sensation of relief on my skin, meeting a cloaked figure holding an umbrella over our heads. I sit up once my eyes catch the person's long red hair.

After two days of just glimpses, she finally appears.

I look away from her hazel eyes and ahead. I know I've told myself, probably a million times already, how much I want her to say something. But I don't want to hear a word; not any more. I've made up my mind. Rose Weasley doesn't belong with me, I should have known. It's better to cut this whole thing from the beginning. And then, maybe I'll forget about her. Maybe I will be able to move on an accept that my life doesn't need any more disturbances. It's better that way; just how it's supposed to be. Keep being nice to her and forgive everything she does will only make it worse. So far, look where this all has taken me.

"Aren't you getting up?" she asks coldly.

"No."

"You'll catch a cold." She says after a little while, her voice still cold.

"I don't care."

"Well, I do."

"Why?" I snort as I bend my legs closer to my chest, placing my forearms on my knees, letting my hands hang loose.

"Because if you catch a cold, you'll probably get a fever and end up in the infirmary."

"So?"

"So I will have to wait, only Merlin knows how many days, to apologize to you." she replies coldly. That's funny; I'd expect her to be annoyed by now. Guess, I'm the only one bitter here."And I'm not having that."

I don't bother looking at her.

I wish she could just go away. I need to forget her and having her standing so close to me, is not helping. The fact that she is out here, willing to apologize is just torturing me to no end. Can't she see? She gets hurt because of me and I get hurt because of her. Let's just stop this all and each go our own way. I need her to leave me alone so I can stop loving her...

"Alright." she suddenly says as she sits beside me, still holding her umbrella above our heads.

"What are you-"

"I'm sorry it only took me ten seconds to completely change my mind about you." she cuts me off "I'm sorry I have avoided apologizing for so long. I'm sorry I never truly believed you were honest. I'm sorry I..." she pauses briefly "I'm sorry I never asked you if what Zabini said was true or just bluff. I'm sorry it didn't occur to me you would never do that kind of thing." she sighs stiffly "I'm just... sorry."

I keep quiet, expecting all the things she said.

I know I shouldn't resent the fact that she hasn't told me she cares about me. I know that I had a big false hope to believe she'd say so. But it still stings; even if I had decided not to mind just minutes ago.

Then she lifts her hand and softly takes one of mine. She puts the umbrella she was holding with her other hand in mine and stands up.

I hear her footsteps fading away on the grass. I'm sure she's soaking wet now, still I don't dare look behind me.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"You're done for today, Mr. Malfoy."

I look behind me where Professor Smith is leaning against the door frame of her ingredients' storage. I nod and finish labelling the flask I have in my hands as I hear her walk away.

I sigh heavily and walk out of the gigantic closet.

"Please take a seat." Professor Smith says.

I sit at the first desk, in front of her, slightly wondering if whatever she has to say is something I might regret listening.

"Why did you miss your last two classes for today?" I knew it.

"I didn't feel well."

"You seemed to feel well enough for an improvised, not to mention unauthorized, Quidditch practice." she says looking up from her papers and into my eyes.

There's a short silence.

"I can come up with many excuses, Professor; but lying to you just doesn't suit me." I reply to her questioning eyes.

"Yet again, you just told me you were ill." she says, a slightly accusing tone in her voice.

"I never said I was ill. I said I wasn't feeling well; which _is_ the truth." I say, not looking away; I'm not lying.

I stare at my Head of House as she stares at me. I don't think she truly believes I'm lying; but there's something in her expression that looks out of place. I mean this is a cold woman; cold enough to make me wonder why she looks so worried about me.

"What is going on with you, Scorpius?" she says, her voice the softer I have ever heard it. "First you move out of the Head's tower with no other place to stay;" That wasn't my fault. "Then you hit your friend, hurting him considerably;" Neither was that "And now you miss class." That... I might take the fault for "Is there a reason for this behaviour of yours?"

"Yes." I reply with no hesitation.

"Mind if I ask what it is?"

I keep quiet a few seconds.

"I don't mind; although I can't guarantee an answer." I say in the most respectful tone I can "There's no need to worry, Professor; it won't happen again. That I _can_ guarantee."

That's the plain truth. I no longer want to care. I no longer will be other than myself for Weasley. I will forget her, I will go back to being me. I don't want to become a decent person at the cost of my own heart.

The professor keeps quiet for a while before, looking away, she says:

"Professor Longbottom wants to see you." I nod at her and wait for her to dismiss me "Good night then."

"Good night."

I stand up after nodding again and walk out of the classroom.

I'm not surprised the Headmaster wants to have a word. Even if my father already told me, as Headmaster, Professor Longbottom has to inform me on it; you know, make it official.

I walk slowly through the empty hallway, dreading the words I'm about to hear.

But there's nothing I can do about it. It's over, I have to accept it. Maybe one day, I'll be able to fly professionally, I don't know. Maybe they don't give much importance to a school's Quidditch record.

Then again, I might just be telling myself this, so I can grasp the idea of never playing again without feeling nauseated.

I suddenly find myself at the giant statue in front of the Headmaster's office. I say the password and watch as the gargoyle steps aside, letting me step into the staircase.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" I open the door after being told to come in.

"Mr. Malfoy; yes." Headmaster Longbottom says, still focused in the parchments on his hands.

I walk inside and sit in front of the wizard as he motions me to come forward. I wait quietly for him to finish whatever he's doing. He sorts some papers here and there, seals a letter and closes a Herbology book he had marked. Once he's done, he folds his hands on the desk at looks at me through his slightly wrinkled eyes.

"I received a letter from your father earlier this afternoon." He starts, his eyes buried on mine "I believe you're aware of it."

"I am." I simply reply. Nothing I say can change a decision that he can't make.

"So I dare say, you already know the reason I asked you into my office this evening." he smiles sadly at my resignation, I guess.

"I do."

"Unfortunately, I cannot ignore your father's worries; even if I don't share his opinion." He pauses briefly "So, to both of our dismays, Scorpius, I'm afraid you'll have to sit back during the next match."

I'm not surprised. I saw it coming; I was warned it'd come, in fact. That bloody old man wouldn't lose the chance to rub in my face the power he has over my life.

Then, something hits me.

"Hold on... The next match... only?" Could it be possible?

"Yes." Headmaster Longbottom replies with the same small smile; this time, not sad at all.

"But-"

"Your father clearly stated that your actions should find their consequences in your Quidditch record." He explains "_However,_ he did not specify for how long. So it is completely up to me to decide if you're banned from the team permanently or temporarily." I look at him, aware of how wide my eyes have gone "I believe you have already grasp my position on the matter."

I don't know what to say. How is this even possible?

"I-"

"You can go to bed now." Headmaster Longbottom dismisses me, his smile wider this time.

Still in shock, I stand up and nod briefly before I turn around, heading for the door. Then I realize I ought to thank him for not ruining my life.

"Thank you, Professor." I say quietly.

The wizard looks up, a puzzled expression on his face. Then, he smiles, as if understanding something.

"I'd love to take the credit for this; but I'm afraid my mind was not the one who saw such needed flaw in you father's letter." he says, smiling to what looks like a reminiscence of I don't know what times.

I mean to leave after that, but sometimes I'm too curious for my own good.

"Mind if I ask who did?" I ask cautiously.

"I don't... but she might."


	14. Attached by the Heart

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, any of its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling  
**

**A/N: Ok everyone, I'm finally done with the 14th chapter of the story. I must admit it took me a lot of thinking and time to finish it. I almost lost my mind. I don't really know what your opinion will be. I mean, the chapter isn't much of an advance of the story as a whole, but I think some of you will enjoy it. The next chapter will be way more important to the plot and it'll be in Rosie's point of view. If you wonder why I didn't just write Rosie's chapter and just ignored this one, it is because in the last chapter you didn't get to see how Scorpius felt about Rosie helping him; I felt like I really had to let you know what he thought of it. Besides I think this reaction suits his personality better than just being fine with it in a love-sick way.**

**Anyway, hope the long wait was worth the while. Thanks for all the reviews, by the way. Thanks to by beta, Nickie. Thanks to everyone who reads.**

**Now, on with the story...!**

**Chapter 14**

"**Attached by the Heart"**

Bloody Weasley.

Just when I had resigned I would never have her; when I had decided to stop myself from loving her; she goes and does this! Is it that hard to just let me forget about her?! What is wrong with her?! Why does she have to be like this?! Is it that hard to just mind her own business and let me handle mine?!

I mean, I know I should be grateful for what she's done; yes, I know it was her. Who else? I don't need the Headmaster to tell me who was the brilliant mind who found the flaw in my father's letter. It's more than obvious! She seems to enjoy solving everyone else's problems; and me getting banned from the team is big enough to make her want to help me, especially since it was her fault. Though I couldn't care less how guilty she feels or anything. It was my decision to hit the git, and I should be the one saving my arse, not her!

I just can't figure her out! She's always cold, never smiling sweetly to me like I know she can. She's not soft spoken to me as she is with her friends! And then she's the nicest anyone has ever been to me, aside, from the shadows, never bothering to let me know!

Why can't she just talk to me? She could have told me about it before informing Longbottom! She could have included me! She could have trusted me! But no! Apparently, _trust,_ is nothing more than a word to Rose Weasley! I don't get it! Why be so harsh to me when she was 'apologizing' and then convincing the Headmaster to let me stay in the team? What reason does she have to intercede for me like this anyway?

She has never really liked me, she said it herself! She never really thought I was being honest! So why do this then?! Does she enjoy confusing people? Does she like controlling the life of everyone around her? Even people whom she couldn't care less about?!

Bloody Weasley! Bloody her and her bloody heroine complex!

I keep running, pushing my legs further. My calves are burning, but I couldn't care less. I cannot wait until tomorrow! This 'I'm-letting-you-speak-for-me-and-pretend-I-don't-know' is ending tonight! She will not have the last say in this! I don't care how hard my heart might pound! I don't care if I stutter like a moron! I don't care if my hands sweat enough to fill a bucket! I'm neither backing down, nor wavering!

After three flights of stairs and four really long hallways, I finally get to the Head's tower. I mumble the password through gritted teeth and walk in, determined to give Weasley a piece of my mind.

As usual, she's at the low table in front of the fireplace, sitting on the floor while doing homework. I try to control my breathing before I let her know I'm in the room. I've tried shouting when I'm out of breathe and the effect has never been the same. I need her to understand I cannot put up any longer with this hidden behaviour of hers; and for that, I need to stop panting.

"I guess I owe big time now, don't I?" I ask angrily once I catch my breathe.

"It was just an umbrella, Malfoy." she replies, not bothering to look at the entrance, where I still stand.

"That's not what I meant."

Then her shoulders stiff and she stops writing in the remarkably long parchment she has been working on, for who knows how long.

We keep quiet for a minute or two. I'm waiting for her reply. She needs to be the one to speak first. She needs to admit her actions. I won't have it any other way.

But she says nothing. She just stares at the fire, as if I had never opened my mouth; as if I wasn't here at all.

Getting madder by every seconds that dies in silence, I make a decision.

If she's not willing to explain herself, I will drag the words out of her.

"Answer me Weasley." I say coldly.

Nothing.

I know she will hate me for this, but it's the only way we can stop dancing around so miserably. I have to do what I think is right. I want to let her go; let her step away from my life and let myself move on. I want her gone, so none of us has to hurt any more. That's the only solution. I can't just forget this all and pretend it doesn't bother me that she intercedes so much for me behind my back.

This has got to stop, and if I have to be ruthless, I will.

"Don't have anything to say now?" I ask, slight mockery defining my tone "Did you waste all your breathe convincing Longbottom to let me stay on the team?"

I wait for a furious reply from her; but it doesn't come. Instead, she starts gathering her stuff and shoving them into her bag.

"Oh, you're leaving?" I ask, still sounding like a git "If this matter isn't important enough for you to clear the air for me, why cause it then?"

I keep trying to be the biggest twat there is; but I can't help feeling disgusted with myself.

"I hit Leonard because I wanted to. It was my call, not yours; thus, the consequences of my actions are that, _mine_." I say, colder than before, but discarding the use of mockery. "Why did you do it, Weasley?"

I wait, as I have at least three times now, for her answer. She stands up, her bag in hand. She turns to face me and I'm finally able to see her reaction. But she's wearing an emotionless mask, making extremely hard for me to see just how mad at me she is. Nevertheless, her clenched fists give her away a little. I look up to her eyes once again, trying to trick my mind into believing I did not see just how bad her left wrist looks.

"I was just being nice." she says, her voice maybe even colder than mine, her eyes buried in the wall behind me.

"Well I don't want you to be nice to me." I say angrily, not really understanding why such statement has made me so angry "You know, I'm getting tired of all the things you do and say on my behalf behind my back." My heart pounds in my ears and I can feel the blood rushing to my face; not precisely in a harmless blush "I've never asked you to stay in the infirmary the night I fell! I didn't ask you to talk to Charlotte! I didn't ask you to solve my Quidditch issue!" I say, almost at the verge of screaming "If you don't consider me worthy enough of even your friendship, then why the bloody hell don't you just mind your own business?!"

There's a deafening silence, in which I try to calm myself. I look at Weasley just to see her eyes cold and unfeeling, still on the wall behind me.

"Fine." she says, her voice far too cold and controlled for my liking.

"That's it? Fine?" After all the trouble she has caused, that's all she'll say? Is she kidding me?

"What else do you want from me, Malfoy?" she replies looking me in the eye. "I will not apologize for making sure your life still had a meaning."

"Why does it even matter to you, Weasley?!" I ask, feeling extraordinarily frustrated by now.

The one second we stared at each other felt like four hours. Four long hours in which I was able to see her hazel eyes deep in confusion, anger gathering in them; though I can't tell whom she's madder at, me or herself.

"I don't bloody know! Alright!" she yells, apparently sick of controlling the way she reacts "Do you think you're the only one who dislikes the way I am?! I bloody hate myself for being such a fool trying to fix everyone's life, just because I can't fix my own!" she continues, letting her bag fall to the floor. "And fine! I won't try to help you any more! I'll mind my own business!" Her cheeks are flushed and a frown has made its way to her forehead "I'm sorry I felt bad for you! I'm sorry I couldn't bare seeing you as miserable as you were when-!"

Then she just cuts herself off in mid sentence. She seems to believe she said a little too much.

"Just forget it. I won't speak for you again." she finally says after almost a minute, her voice back to being cold and too collected.

Then she leaves the room, not bothering to pick up her bag, not bothering to explain herself any further, not bothering to look back at me once.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"You're done for the night, Mr. Malfoy." I look up from my essay to Professor Smith. "If you hurry, you might still catch some supper."

I look back down at my unfinished essay. I know that if I turn it in like this, I might have to come back tomorrow for an extra detention to finish it... But I'm hungry as hell.

I haven't eaten properly for a week now; since I last spoke to Weasley. I know, I know; if I don't care, how come I can't eat, I can't think correctly, I can't sleep! Well what the bloody hell do you want from me, people? I'm trying to forget about _love_, not a bad grade!

I gather my things and walk out of the classroom after mumbling a grumpy 'good night' to my Head of House. As I walk through the dungeon's halls, I can hear someone approaching me from the next hallway. I hope it's not Weasley; I've managed to ignore her existence for too long now. If I see her, I might not be able to keep my plan up.

Panic drowning me, I make a harsh decision and turn violently to walk the path I was coming from back again.

"Look who we have here." An amused, probably smirking, voice says behind me.

I turn around, knowing it's not Weasley, but not precisely liking whom I know I'm about to face.

"What do you want, Zabini?"

"Not much." Leonard replies, that hateful smirk wider than I have ever seen it. "I just wanted to congratulate you."

"For what exactly?" I snort.

"For keeping up my good work." he says after a few seconds of starring at me, looking hideously amused.

I don't really understand what he means, but I certainly don't want to know. I rather ignore him than have something else in my mind to keep me awake this evening or preventing me from eating at all. So I decide to keep walking. I'll have to take a few more turns than I would if I cross paths with Zabini, but I don't care. To walk a few more feet looks way better than giving him the chance to make me fall in whatever trap he's planning now.

"You seem to be rather miserably lately," he says casually, just when I've taken about five steps ahead. "Not that you are an actual happy person, but you look pretty beaten at the time being."

"So?" I ask, not moving, but not bothering to look at him either.

"Well, I guess you've managed to make the pretty red head hate you, without my help."

At that I can't help but turn. I glared at the tanned boy as he leans against the wall, pulling one of his hateful smirks at the fact that he managed to catch my attention.

"What is it to you?"

"Oh, it's very amusing actually." he says as calmly as if we were discussing the weather "Now I know I don't have to try too hard. You do a very nice job making your life miserable yourself."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoy the show." I reply and attempt to keep walking.

"I certainly do." I hear him peal himself off the wall and take a couple of steps towards me. "But I don't think I've had enough."

I stop dead once more. I want to turn around at hit the bloody hell out of him; but I'm half way through with my detention, and I don't want another month for 'unjustified' violence. So, instead of murdering him, I take a deep breathe.

"It's been three years now, Leonard. Let it go."

"No." he replies right away, walking closer. "I will not let go until you feel the same pain I felt."

"I hate to tell you, but I have already lost someone precious to me, if you can't recall." I turn around to see him not more than four feet from me. His smirk is gone, but his eyes are a pair of dark blue, hateful slits.

"It's not the same; you know it."

"What are you planning on doing then, Zabini?" I ask him mockingly "You've already managed to make my already broken relationship with my father even worse. You turned my ex-girlfriend, not to mention one of my best friends, against me. And I'm sure you wouldn't hurt your own brother." I say almost laughing "So what can you possibly do to me now?"

"I can always stick to just messing with Weasley."

I try to say he can do whatever he wants with her; but just thinking about it feels like a really large knife is being plugged into my guts.

"Hm? I will take your silence as a green light." he says smirking as he turns his back to me and starts walking ahead.

"Don't you even dare." I hiss, feeling too furious to even put it in words.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me just fine, Zabini." I threaten coldly, my voice sharper than a needle "You touch one hair of her head and I will hunt you down and rip your bloody organs out."

"Oh, please." he snorts, the smirk never leaving his mouth "Your place in the team is already compromised, don't you mind getting expelled?"

Unable to stop myself, I walk three long strides towards Leonard and grab him from his uniform's collar. It takes all my self control and will power to not slam my fist against his face for the second time in two weeks.

"I couldn't care less." Screw school! "You come more than twenty feet from her and I swear over Albus Dumbledore's grave, I'll kill you."

I let go of him, pushing him hard enough for him to stumble a little once his feet touch the floor properly. Then I walk away, trying to be the better man here... Though, truth be told, I rather not be a man at all at this point.

After a few seconds, I hear his footsteps walking the opposite direction from mine. I don't know if he'll take me seriously. I don't know if he's scared or just amused by the obvious effect his words had upon me. But honestly, his reaction to my threat is the last thing I'm trying to figure out.

I'm never going to stop caring for her, am I?

I don't understand why I have to love _her_, of all people. I don't get how my rational thinking can lose all its powers just because of that tiny beating thing in my chest. I always thought of myself as a man who would never fall to the flatter of the heart; all my life, I've thought my way out of anything.

But this time I just can't. My brain refuses to cooperate; it's just letting my emotions take over. And as far as I know, that had never been part of the deal.

I know I should stay away from her. I know loving her just gains me pain and hurt and it messes up everything I've worked for. But I can't bring myself to care... at all.

Because it doesn't matter how much of a rational being I am. It doesn't matter how hard I try to forget about the redhead. It's just never going to happen. I don't care how frustrated she makes me. I don't care how helpless or useless she makes me feel. I don't even care if it brings me more trouble just thinking this way. I can't just let her go. I know she's not mine; I know there's a chance she'll never be, but I can't just give up.

She might confuse me, she might make me feel like a blushing five-year-old. None of that matters. Because, even if she doesn't smile at me in the same sweet manner she smiles at her friends and family; she smiles nevertheless. Her voice is this infant's favourite lullaby. Her eyes are the only thing in this world that can hypnotize me. Her stubborn attitude just makes me more drawn to her. I don't really mind the fact that she helps everyone she can possibly help. What bugs me is that she helps _me_ too; meaning I'm nothing special to her; I'm 'anyone'.

Still, even aware of how unimportant I may be to her. I just can't forget her; I can't get over her. Because it doesn't matter how horrible my life can turn if I keep feeling this way. I love her; that's my absolute truth. I can't change it, and in all honesty, I don't want to either.

I'm in love, and even if I'm not loved back; I can finally see the beauty of it all.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

It's been twenty minutes since I finally reached the portrait that leads to my common room. Twenty minutes since the bloody painting has asked for the password at least three times. I don't know what to do.

Weasley is at the other side, and I don't know what to say to her.

"Just get in, boy." the portrait says, breaking my thoughts "She's not even there."

"What?" I ask dumbfounded. "Oh, mm, 'Alliance'."

I walk into the common room, verifying what the old man of the portrait said; she's not here.

I wonder if she even plans on coming back. This time she didn't change the password; I believe I wasn't the only one who got in trouble for that little stunt at the beginning of the term. I heard she earned a week of detention as well...

Detention. Of course. She got two weeks of muggle-handed trophy polishing for what happened the day of the match. She must still be at detention. If not, she should be having the supper my stomach refused on having before I could even reach the Great Hall.

I walk further into the room and slump in the couch in front of the fireplace. The flames are as vivid as usual; but for some reason I just don't feel very warm.

I'm surprised, not to mention impressed, by my lack of panic at my current situation. Usually at me digging a hole in the ground just so I can disappear and not have to face Weasley. But panicking just seems so stupid, so immature on my part at the moment. I guess that I've come to be in peace with my heart's choice, and maybe that state of mind makes everything less scary, I suppose.

Still, just because I'm sure I won't blush like a middle school girl, doesn't mean that I have a clue of what to say. I'm not sure I can just apologize and get away with it; I doubt Weasley would let it go that easily. Truth enough, a simple apology won't take away the things I said last week. I don't consider none of my words to be a low punch, unlike a certain sentence she said to me about a month ago, but she is just too stubborn. Even if I mean it with all of me, I doubt she'd see it the same way.

But however I look at it, there's no way in this life I can say enough for her to forgive me right away. So maybe I don't need to think much about it. I'll just say I'm sorry and that I didn't mean all the things I said, and hopefully she'll see I'm not lying.

Just as this thoughts clouded my head, I hear the portrait hole being opened and wait in silence for the redhead to come into sight.

But she doesn't.

I sit up straighter and turn my head to the entrance. Weasley sitting on the floor, her legs bend up to her chest and her forehead resting on her knees. She's panting, like she had run her way back to the tower.

"Weasley?" I call out to her as I stand up from the couch.

At the sound of my voice, the redhead snaps her head up and I feel relieved to see her eyes dry. I know she's not the kind of girl that cries much; but I was truly concerned she had broken. Still, she looks quite tired. There are light lilac circles under her hazel eyes.

"What?" she mumbles after letting out a heavy sigh.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." she says in a tired, yet cold voice.

She stands up and pick the bag that had, apparently, set down when she sat on the floor. Then she starts walking to her bedroom, looking exhausted.

I know she looks like she needs a good night sleep; call me selfish, but I can't wait until tomorrow to apologize. Beside who knows if I'll see her at all, she's really good at hiding, and since it's Hogsmeade weekend, it'll be rather hard to find out where she'll be gone to.

"Can I have a word?" I ask before she opens her bedroom door. She turns to face me, and I can't really read her face. I don't know if she's annoyed or worried or just too bloody tired. "I just wanted to apologize for what I said last week. I didn't mean any of the things I said."

We look at each other in the eye as I wait for her reply. As the time passes, I'm quite surprised at the lack of glaring on her part. Instead of shooting me a deathly look, she just leans against the wall and smiles a small tired smile.

"Are you sure about that?" she mocks me slightly "Cause you were pretty convincing."

I can't help but smile myself at the obvious opposite turn of events I had prepared myself for.

"I'm sure."

"Apology accepted." She says softly and then turns to open her bedroom door.

I turn to face the fireplace, little convinced she really accepts my apologies. I mean, maybe she didn't punch me in the guts with that sharp tongue of hers; but for some reason she just looks too distracted, too tired to take my words completely and let them sink in. It just was a little too easy to let it go.

"I guess I ought to apologize as well." I suddenly hear. I turn around back again to see her still in front of the door. "I still believe it was my responsibility to try to get you back on the team. But I shouldn't have kept it from you. I'll give you that." she says.

I nod at her and she nods at me before she finally closes her bedroom door behind her.

I'm not sure if I believe the fact that she has forgiving me that easily. I know there's something in her mind. I know she's worried about something that has absolutely nothing to do with me. Maybe she had a disagreement with Potter, maybe she got an unpleasant letter from her mother, maybe she's stressed about the classes. I don't know. But whatever it is, I'll let her tell me on her own accord. No, I don't think she even considers the option of trusting me. But in time, I hope she will. No matter when she decides to let me in, I'll be waiting.

After all, I'm attached to her by the heart.


	15. The Fallen of Rose's Petals

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, any of its characters or settings; all you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Ok everyone, I couldn't resist! Here you go, chapter 15! As I had mentioned before, this one is in Rosie's point of view. I must warn you, it is a rather sad chapter, it even made me cry at the end. This is Rosie's turn to tell you who she is; what she's going through and why she is that way. You'll discover nice things and bad things, and hopefully it'll be of your liking. This chapter is key for the rest of the story.**

**By the way, 'As' goes for Albus Severus...Just in case you think it's a spelling error.**

**Anyway, thank you for all the reviews! I have over a hundred now! Oh, how exciting!**

**Ok, so, happy reading!**

**Chapter 15**

"**The Fallen of Rose's Petals"**

I'm a hypocrite.

I'm scared.

I want to run away.

I want to scream.

I want someone whom I can really trust.

I want to fall.

But I can't. Because Rose Weasley is strong. She doesn't trust anyone. She doesn't talk feelings. She never cries. She's cold; she can face anyone and anything and not waver.

"Rosie?" I hear in my ear "Are you Ok?"

I turn my eyes from their lazy spot on the window and settle them on Al's emerald ones. He has the same worried glint he's had ever since last night's family's newsflash.

Merlin, will you stop?!

"Yeah." I mumble and turn my eyes to the board, where Professor Smith is wrapping up the lesson and explaining the essay due to next Tuesday.

"Class is dismissed." the woman then says.

I gather my things as quickly as I can, so I can go hide from every bloody one and their constant 'Are you OK's.

"Miss Weasley, mind staying?" the professor says above the chattering.

I nod at the woman and sit back again, waiting for everyone to leave. As people wonder in annoying whispers why I was being kept behind, I catch Al's worried face. I motion him to go ahead and see him leave along with Nick. Then I turn to Professor Smith, wondering myself what it is she has to tell me. Maybe it has something to do with the detention I skipped last night.

"Alright." the professor says and then takes the seat beside me, instead of her desk, as you would expect her to do. "Neville told me about your dad." she says making me regret staying behind. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." I say, making sure she understands, as politely as I can, that this is not a topic I'd like to discuss at the moment.

"Zacharias sends his best to you and your family." she says softly.

"I'll tell mum." I say rapidly, hopefully summing up the meeting.

We both keep quite for a few seconds and I take my chance to leave the room.

"If that's all, I' like to have lunch now, if you don't mind, professor." I stand up and sense the older woman is about to say something. "I will make up for last night's detention whenever you like."

With not another word I leave the classroom; but I don't head for the Great Hall; instead I go back to my tower, where I know no one will disturb me.

I walk as fast as I can, hoping all the people I know is having lunch, so I don't have to bump into anyone and try convincing them I'm fine for Merlin's sakes.

"Password?"

"_Alliance_."

I walk in and kick off my shoes right away, throwing them to my closed bedroom. I walk over to the fireplace, not really wanting lock myself in my room; if I do, I might regret it.

When I reach the couch, I see a blonde bloke laying on it, sleeping soundly. His silvery blonde hair is falling to his closed eyes. I had never noticed how long his eyelashes are. It's quite funny seeing him like this; he truly looks like those cute little boys you see in the cover of muggle's bedtime stories. I smile to myself at the contrast of the words 'cute little boy' and the idea of Malfoy looking like one.

Seeing as Malfoy is occupying the couch, I sit on the comfy chair next to it. I bring my legs up and rest my chin on my knees. I try not to think about my dad and the news I got last night. As long as I keep everything that happened out of my mind, it'll be fine... at least for a little while longer.

As I look around for something else to focus on, my eyes decided to fall upon the evenly breathing boy near me.

I'm glad he apologized for shouting at me last week. Despite the fact that we don't share much, I like spending the evenings doing my homework beside him.

It's funny how things turned out.

When the term first began, my dad told me to try be nicer to Scorpius. If he had said it in different circumstances I would have thought he was joking. But my dad has been through a lot, and the way he used to see the Malfoys has changed. He regrets a lot of things, especially not doing those that could have prevented such a social discrepancy during the War.

I had tried listening to my dad; but that first meeting in the train made me feel like it wasn't even worthy trying to be nice to the blonde bloke. After that, we've had arguments, all resulting in nothing but bad news. Then we agreed on a truce; but still, I couldn't buy it. Even after it all seemed to be settled nicely, I kept reminding myself all the things I didn't like about Malfoy. He's cold, he's quiet, he's a loner, he's a liar, he's a coward, he's a fool.

I don't think I believe all those things about him any more.

Still, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel. It was quite a shock to hear all the things Zabini said and find out that Scorpius really wanted us to be friends, that he wasn't lying; like I had believed all along. I really regret accusing him like that. But it was just so much easier to not believe a word he said than accepting the fact that, eventually, he expected me to trust him. I mean, Albus is my best friend, he's closer to me than my own brother, and still there are some things I can't bring myself to tell him. So if I can't trust entirely the one person whom I dare believe knows me best, how am I supposed to trust Malfoy?

I must admit, I was planning on never apologizing to him and just let things go on unfriendly, like I always willed them to. But those two days I had ignored him, felt rather lonely. No, I don't think we are friends, or even close enough to make me miss him dearly. But I guess I had grown fond of this presence.

Yes, he's cold; but from time to time he smiles rather warmly at me. He's quiet; but at least he doesn't ask me constantly if I'm Ok, or how I feel, or how my day went; and I enjoy the silence he brings along. He is a loner, but that doesn't really concern me; in fact I appreciate that he can understand when one wants to be left alone. He may be a liar, but now I can tell he's been honest, at least to me. He's not a coward; I understood that quite recently and in the hard way. He may be a fool every now and then; but he's still a rather pleasant person to be around, even with his lack of words or over-numbered smirks.

Although, I don't think he's as fond of me as Zabini seems to believe. Malfoy did seem truly angry about the whole Quidditch thing last week. I know maybe it wasn't my call, even if I caused it. But, even if he isn't my favourite person in the world, I couldn't bare seeing him like that... not again.

Five years ago, we were told Aristoria Malfoy had died from a radical disease commonly known as _Magical Deterioration_. It's rather rare, mortal and unfortunately, unidentifiable until the final stage. It effects the person's ability to perform magic. Little by little it becomes harder for the witch or wizard to handle their magic correctly, preventing them form using it at all a few months after the symptoms show. Once the magic is bottled up in someone's body, unable to come out, it affects their system; slowly deteriorating the vital organs, until either the brain dies or the heart stops beating. It isn't painful; it's more like drifting to sleep; and well, when you finally close your eyes, there are bound to never open again.

It was mid February when it happened. No one saw it coming. After that, all eyes settled on Draco Malfoy, but never on his son. The man was obviously broken, which caught people's attention. Scorpius seemed to be handling it better, he didn't cry; he didn't show any signs of sorrow, so people thought that the one having a real tough time was his father.

I don't understand how people can be so blind. The boy didn't grief, but that didn't mean he was fine; it actually meant the complete opposite. If he was fine, he would have cried. He was twelve for Merlin's sake. For a twelve year old to just be happy a few days after his mum had died, isn't normal. But people didn't realize; they paid no attention to the one who needed it the most.

It was a year latter, on a rainy November evening that I heard him. I was planing on flying for a little while, I hadn't applied for the team, so the only time I could use my broom was when hidden from the eyes of authority. That night, though, someone had beaten me to the pitch. It took me a minute or so to recognize the blonde hair. He was just flying around, but his moves weren't as smooth and as graceful as they usually are; they were harsh and violent, angry, even desperate.

I will never forget how much pain his cries were drown in. That night, I wished I never had to see so much pain again, whether it was his, or anyone else's.

I'm not sure what it is that makes me want to prevent others from hurting. Maybe it's because_ I_ am in pain, and relieving someone else's, soothes mine; even if it doesn't truly help.

The years to come, he acted like that night hadn't happened. And it bugged me to no end. He was hiding how he felt, and that just wasn't right to me. He was being a hypocrite; pretending everything was alright, when it wasn't.

Now I understand. Sometimes hiding is better. Sometimes it's nicer to keep your problems to yourself. Now, I can relate to his denial. Now, I'm being the hypocrite. I'm the one pretending, I'm the one who's not being true to anyone, not even herself.

I wish I could change it; I wish I could just let myself fall. But there's no one there to catch me. My family is just as broken as I am; I cannot ask them to put me back together. Especially when it's me the one who needs to keep her head on her shoulders.

"What time is it?" I suddenly hear near me, making my train of thought crash.

I look around a little startled, just to see Malfoy's silver eyes looking at me through sleepiness.

"1:30." I reply after glancing at my wrist clock. "You missed Potions."

"Perfect. I'll have to come by Professor Longbottom's office later this evening." he says, yawning slightly.

I stare at the empty fireplace, feeling a little troubled. For some reason, now that he's awake, I wonder if I could tell Malfoy something. Anything really, just to feel a little relief.

"Malfoy?" I venture.

"Hm?" he tosses a little in the couch.

"Can I-?" I mean to ask if I could just talk to him "Can I borrow your Charms' notes?"... but I can't.

"Sure." he says, drifting back to sleep.

What am I thinking? I can't just purr my mind to him. He has nothing to do with it. He's not even my friend. What right do I have to ask him to listen to me complaining about my life? After all, it's not that big of a deal. Yeah, my dad went away for a few days, but he's back; he's back and doing better, right?

Everyone is just so caught up in the fact that he left us again, after all this time; that they can't see the good part. He's not completely gone yet. He's fine.

And so am I.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Hey." I hear from behind me as a pair of pale long arms wrap themselves around me and a raven head falls to my shoulder.

I look from the lake to my cousin's head. He must be feeling a little down; usually he seeks family affection only when sad. I mark the book I had been trying to read and mess his hair with my right hand. I know, not the most girly sign of affection, but he gets it.

"What's wrong, As?" I ask softly and hear him chuckling slightly at his childhood nickname.

"Nothing, Carrot." he sighs and lets go to sit beside me.

"Right." I snort "After all this years, do you still think you can fool _me_?"

"It's not something you'd like to hear, Rosie." he says looking at the ground while his fingers play with his shoe laces.

I watch as he fidgets and I can't help but frown at his obvious display of depression.

"Would you just stop, Albus." I mumble angrily, ripping my eyes from my cousin's dramatic behaviour and make them settle in the lake. "It'll be fine."

"Well, it doesn't seem that way." he says a little coldly "Dad told me Auntie Mione is very worried about the whole thing."

"That's because my mother is paranoid." I reply, not as angrily.

"She may not be."

We keep quite for a while. Al knows something I don't and refuses to tell me.

"Is there something else uncle Harry told you?" I wonder. I will make him spit it out, even if it requires me to draw out my wand.

"What do you mean?" he asks, not sounding as honest as I know he can. He's a brilliant liar, but when it comes to me, he can't do it perfectly.

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm not hiding anything." Yes you are "Dad just told me how everyone's doing and that he wanted to speak to you tonight." Really? "He will be at Uncle Neville's office at 6."

"Headmaster Longbottom." I correct him.

I hate when any of my cousins call Uncle Neville like that while in the school grounds. It makes me feel like whatever is happening is too serious to keep the façade we put up not to remind everyone else how personal our relationship with the school's Headmaster is.

"It doesn't matter; no one's around, Rosie."

I'm around. It matters to me.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

It's a quarter to 6 and I am right in front of the gargoyle that guards the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"_Mandrake_" I say and watch as the statue comes alive and steps aside, letting me to step onto the moving staircase.

"Oh dear," I hear from the other side of the door just when I was about to knock "I will go myself as soon as possible. Mione needs all the support she can get."

I will regret coming, I can tell already.

Not wanting to hear any more of that drifting conversation, I knock twice, softly.

"Come in." I push the door slightly "Rosie, dear." I'm greeted.

"Prof- Uncle Neville." I nod at the man sitting on the high chair "Uncle Harry." I then turn to nod at the older version of Albus and he nods back.

I know it doesn't look like we're family. If this were a family reunion, I'd be hugging both of my uncles for dear life; but the fact that uncle Harry is here, at the school, in the middle of the term, on a work day; doesn't feel proper for a warm family embrace.

Something is not right.

"Take as seat, darling." Uncle Neville says, pointing at the vacant chair beside uncle Harry. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No."

"Lemonade?"

"No."

"Pumpkin jui-"

"I'd like to be told what am I here for." I cut him off, looking straight into his dark brown eyes.

"Right." he says, looking at the table between us. There's a little pause and he then turns to uncle Harry "Should we wait for Hugo?"

"No, Mione has told him already." Uncle Harry says softly, not meeting my eyes when I try to catch his green ones.

"Is he gone again?" I ask, never looking away from his aged face.

"I'm afraid so." He then finally looks me in the eye.

"But he's coming back, isn't he?"

"The healers don't think he will." uncle Neville says and I turn my eyes to him.

"But there's still a chance." There's got to be "They didn't say anything definitely, did they?" I question, looking from brown to green.

"He won't be coming back, Rosie." uncle Harry says, resignation dripping from every word.

"How do you know?" For some reason I can't help but feel mad at the two wizards. How can they give up so bloody easily?!

"The time the potions had gain him is over." Uncle Neville says, as uncle Harry can't seem to be able to mumble another word.

"I don't believe it." I reply after a minute of deafening silence. This is not happening.

"Rosie-"

"No." I cut uncle Harry before I stand up, scandalized by their defeated attitude.

"Rosie!" I hear one of them, I'm not sure who, calling after me. But I'm already closing the door behind me. I head for the staircase when I glimpse of silver catches my eye.

There, not more than three feet from the door stands Scorpius Malfoy.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I keep walking through the wet grass on my way to the Quidditch pitch, rain pouring down on me.

This is not happening. They are all overreacting. Maintain yourself calm, Weasley.

The healers don't know what the bloody hell they're talking about. It's not as bad as everyone thinks. Dad is strong and stubborn; he won't let himself be defeated. How can everyone just stop believing?

I finally get to the stands and run my way to the one in the middle.

It's not true. He wouldn't leave me. He wouldn't...

Don't you even dare, Weasley! The only drops on your face with be the rain's! You don't cry, remember?! You're strong! You don't break! You don't fall!

Ok, breathe. Just breathe. It'll all the alright.

I hide my face between my knees as I will my heart to stop racing so fast.

"I'm fine. I'm alright. This is not happening. Weasley's don't give up." I say to myself over the rain.

Be strong... Be strong... Be strong... Be strong...

After a few minutes of this mantra, I finally find it in myself to breathe evenly. I'm starting to realize I'm wet from head to toes, water dripping from all of me. I think I know now the real reason I was shaking. I keep my face hidden, trying to maintain it as dry as possible. If I let raindrops fall on my face, I might not be able to stop my eyes from shedding drops of their own. I try my hardest to concentrate on the sound of the rain, avoiding thinking about the things I was just told.

I hear the rain for a while, before I realize I can no longer feel it washing over me. I tilt my head to the side to see my red umbrella being held above my head by the one hand, to which I gave that same umbrella last week. My eyes meet his silver ones and I see confusion. I look away from him and ahead, resting my chin on my knees. I feel like I have to explain myself, even if this has nothing to do with him; but just as I open my mouth...

"You don't have to say anything. I don't need to know." he says softly, but loud enough for me to hear above the rain.

I sew my lips back together at his words. A little while goes by and then I feel the stands jerk a little. Malfoy is coming down to my row, sitting himself beside me, still holding my umbrella so not another drop falls on me.

I keep starring ahead. I no longer feel the need to remind myself to keep my head over my shoulders. For some unknown reason to me, I feel relieved someone sits beside me, not expecting me to say anything; not expecting me to explain myself; not expecting me to bit back the bitterness and smile in vain.

"Clock's Syndrome."

"What?" he asks sounding confused.

"Clock's Syndrome." I repeat myself "That's what he has."

I know he said I didn't have to say anything. I know myself that I don't owe him any kind of explanation. But it feels rather relieving to be able to say these things out loud. To tell someone outside my family. To just let it out.

"One day, about two years ago, he woke up unable to recognize my mother." I begin "He knew who he was, but no one else seemed familiar to him. He started screaming, asking who my mother and my bother were." I pause, trying to hold myself together as tight as I possibly can. "His screams woke me up. I ran to my parents room, scared out of my mind. He looked like a mad man... but when he saw me, he was able to calm down."

I pause lightly again, trying to maintain my heartbeats at a even rhythm.

"He thought I was my mother." I swallow hard "_Mione... there you are,_ were his words."

A few seconds pass in silence as I try focusing on the rain and prevent myself from crying. Malfoy seems to wait patiently.

"The healers said he was suffering from a brain condition, probably caused by any sequels an injury from the War could have developed." I continue, my voice hoarse "They said that there was a potion he could take to guarantee him to stay in this present time, able to recognize us all... but that eventually the effect would run out. They said he had little over a year before his..._ episodes_, would overpower the effects of the potion. In time it would happen more often and for longer periods of time." I take a longer pause than before, making sure my voice won't crack the next time I open my mouth "Apparently the deadline has come. And... Well, you heard my uncle."

'_He won't be coming back, Rosie_.' his words still ring in my ears, just as if he had said it a second ago.

"I'm so sorry, Rose." Malfoy says.

"It's Ok. There's still a chance, right? He can still come back." I say, sounding more confident about it than I actually feel, turning to meet his silver eyes; probably expecting them to tell me I'm right...

But they don't.

For some reason I feel furious at his lack of support. Who does he think he is, shattering my hopes like this?!

Frowning, I stand up from the my seat and start walking down to the ground.

I will prove him and my uncles and everyone else that they're wrong! Millions of times I've been able to make my dad come back; to see _me_, Rosie and not 'Mione'! How hard could it be do it one more time!

I make my way back to the castle, running this time. I head for the stairs once inside the school, not bothering to see if there's people at the Great Hall, watching me sprint desperately.

Sooner than I had expected I cross the Head's common room and take a handful of flu powder. I throw them into the vivid orange flames, turning them green. I step in and shout 'The Burrow', where I'm sure my dad is being taken care of. I know that as soon as I leave, the school's flu network alarms will go off. But I don't care. I don't care if I'm breaking the rules; this is more important than a clean record.

"Dad! Dad! It's me! Rosie!" I shout as soon as I step into the Burrow's kitchen. I storm upstairs, still calling out for my father.

"Rose..." I believe my mum just called out to me.

"Where is he?!" I shout at the invisible guests.

I keep running upstairs; not stopping at the sight of any of my relatives. None of them is the redhead I'm desperate to find. I finally reach the last store and slam open the door of my dad's teen years room.

"Dad." I call out of breath at the middle aged man lying on a Chudley Cannon's small bed.

"Mione!" he says, his deep blue eyes brighting at the sight of someone whom I'm not.

"No dad, it's Rosie." I say taking a step further.

I see confusion painting his face. I see the same expression I've been able to rip off many times before.

"Dad? What are you saying, Mione?" he asks, sounding just as lost as his eyes look.

"I'm not Mione, dad. Rosie. Your daughter remember?" I say. That's the key; just remind him he's got a daughter, and he'll come back... like he has every time.

"Daughter?" he snorts "I don't have a daughter Hermione, quit the games already, will you?" he says, clearly annoyed, turning his eyes away from me "Always the same! Cut it out already, it's not fun anymore."

At this I can't help but feel like my heart is being ripped out. Ripped, cut into pieces and thrown to the floor to be stepped on.

This can't be happening. He always came back when I told him who I really was! How come he isn't coming back now?!

"No, no, it's not a game! Look at me dad!" I start raising my voice as I feel my eyes watering "Remember me!" "Come back! You've done it before!" I take a deep breath; it's getting harder to breathe "Come back!!"

"Rosie.." I hear my grandmother whisper behind me.

"No!" I shout, shrugging a hand that had settled on my shoulder "Look at me Dad!" I scream for the man in front of me to stop glaring at the wall and turn his blue eyes to me "See _me_!!"

"Call me when you're done with this nonsense, Mione."

Those words have set my defeat. He can't see me. He can't recognize me. All he sees is his teenage wife. I no longer exist in his mind. He's not coming back. He truly isn't coming back.

He's left me.

I can feel tears falling non-stop down my cheeks. I can feel a few hands leading me downstairs. I can feel people hugging me, saying who knows what.

Stop; please people, stop!

I shrug all hands and arms off me and start running downstairs. I don't even know where I'm heading. All I know is that I need to get out of here.

Finally downstairs, I stop; not knowing what to do. I want to find a corner and just let myself cry until I can't breathe. I hear voices calling out to me and footsteps coming down the staircase; I look around, desperate for an exit. Then I see them, the green flames; they will take me back somewhere less painful, won't they? I run to the fireplace and let myself get dizzy from all the turns, colours and sounds. Then I get out of the chimney, at the same room I had left from; but unlike I had thought, I don't fall face down into the couch. No, I fall into someone's arms.

It takes me five seconds to recognize the blonde hair.

Then I realize he had been waiting for me in front of the fireplace; waiting... with open arms.

"It's Ok, Rose. I'm here." he says.

At those words, I finally feel free to break. I let myself cry against his shoulder. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold onto him for deal life. I can feel myself still soaking wet from the rain; but he doesn't seem to care I'm getting him damp. He keeps holding me, letting me shake and cry and scream my lungs out; never losing his grip.

Why?

Why my daddy? My favourite person in the whole world can't recognize me! He doesn't know I exist any more! He doesn't know I'm his daughter! He can't even conceive the idea of having a daughter at all! Why won't he come back! I want my dad! I want him back!

I try to breathe, just to realize it's too bloody hard.

What am I doing? No, no, I can't do this! Stop crying, you fool! Stop! Be strong..! Be strong..! Be-!

"Fall, Weasley." he suddenly says, holding me tighter "Fall... I will catch you."


	16. Eyes Wide Open Part I: Scorpius

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J..**

**A/N: Hi everyone! I apologize for the long wait! I've thought this chapter through to the point I almost went nuts; I have rewrite it over and over, I believe I have like three different beginnings to the same scenes. I believe this chapter isn't as sad, which is good, but Scorpius opens his eyes in ways he never expect nor would want. The original chapter is incredibly long; that's why it took me two weeks; it's about realizations made by both Scorpius and Rose about their lifes, themselves and each other. Because it was exhaustingly long and I still have to polish Rose's part, I've cut the chapter in two and I'm posting Scorpius part first so you don't have to wait any longer. The second part will be updated later this weekend.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter; I dare say Scorpius grows a lot and honestly, I think I've fallen harder for him after writting this, if that's even possible! ^^... Oh by the way; I expected to finish the story in another 3 chapters, but since 1 has turned into 2, the story will have 20 chapters instead of the 19 I had thought I'd reach.  
**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! Last chapter I got over 20! Ok, so happy reading everyone!**

**Chapter 16**

"**Eyes Wide Open"**

**Part I: Scorpius**

_She cries._

_She cries, and I can't make it stop._

_She's hurting, and all I can do is not let go. She clings to me like her life depended on it. She shakes and twists her small hands into small fists as she lets the air leave her lungs unevenly._

_I do nothing._

_I see her in pain. I hold her while she cries. I'm here. Nevertheless, I'm useless._

_Because no matter how hard I wish to make her stop crying; or how much I want her to be happy again; I can't do anything._

_So I let her cry._

_I let her wound heal by itself; instead of trying to stitch it up. Because when forced, the cut will always open back again; and then, it'll hurt much more that it did to begin with. I can't make it better, whether I want or not, whether I can or not._

_So I let her hurt._

_I let her fall, promising she won't hit the floor._

_I let her break, promising I'll put her back together._

_And so, she carries on crying, and shaking, and banging her small fists against my chest, mad at the universe for taking her father away from her; until she no longer moves violently, until she starts breathing evenly, sleep taking over her._

_I stay there, sitting on the floor, holding her._

_I move slightly, freeing my hand and pushing a few bangs of fiery red hair off her face. She looks pale, her always-beautiful freckles standing out a lot more than usual. There are few tears still gathered on her eyelashes, and tear traces on her cheeks. Unlike I always imagined she'd look in her sleep, peace is the last thing reflected in that perfect face of hers. She's slightly frowning, her lips tug downwards in an unhappy curve, and her hands still clutch my shirt forcefully, making her knuckles whiter._

_I rock us both back and forward gently as I hope for a better tomorrow._

...

I sit up in the bathtub, letting my head break the water's surface. I rub my eyes and run my hands through my hair.

How many times is this memory coming back?

I get out of the tub, wrap a towel around me, and not bothering to do the drying, I walk out of the bathroom. I head over to my bed and let myself slump on it, not caring I'm getting my sheets wet. I turn my head to stare at my bedroom door.

At the other side of the thick wooden panel, sits a certain redhead by the fireplace, I assume, doing her class work. To say I'm a little worried about her would be the biggest understatement of them all.

A week has passed since Weasley had a breakdown.

Seven days since I had her in my arms. Seven days since I was the closest to her than I have ever been. Seven days since I realized maybe hugs aren't as bad as I always considered them to be. Seven days since I became the worst person in the world, secretly wishing her to break again, so I could hold her against me forever.

I sigh at my shameful thoughts.

I get up, meaning to dry myself, just to realize my sheets had already done the job. I get some clothes on and dry my hair with the towel. With no further ado, I get out of the bedroom.

As soon as I'm out, my eyes seek for the fireplace, waiting to meet Weasley's head leaning to the table, writing casually; but they don't.

I look around and find the redhead at the window, sitting on a double comfy chair she must have moved there, hugging her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Her hazel eyes, lost in the winter picture outside the glass.

I lean against the wall and cross my arms against my chest as I watch her.

Yeah, seven days, and she acts like nothing has happened.

The morning after she find out about her dad, I had found myself alone, still on the floor. She was long gone. I did not see her that day until late in the evening, when we both had to serve detention. We spoke nothing; she didn't say a word the whole two hours of flask labelling. I know I shouldn't hold it against her, but I thought I had been clear enough when I told her she could count on me.

"Malfoy?" her voice snaps me out of it "What are you looking at?" she asks, glaring at me slightly.

If this was a normal day, let's say three weeks ago, I'd be, without a doubt, stuttering some lame excuse to cover the fact that I was watching her.

Gladly, this is not three weeks ago.

"You." I say staring at her hazel eyes. They look a lot darker than usual. "I'm looking at you."

She stares at me for a couple of seconds, still looking slightly bothered. Then she turns her eyes back to the windows, sighing.

"I'm fine." she says, her voice sounding a little funny at the pressure her knees put on her chin.

"Really?" I ask after a short pause, still leaning into the wall "It doesn't look that way."

"I know." she replies with a sigh "I just..."

She doesn't continue. I keep watching her a second or two, before I realize the bothered look of her face is gone. She's just looking outside the window, the darker tone of her eyes making them look sadder...

Sad. She's sad, isn't she?

I know there's absolutely nothing I can possibly do to rip off the sadness in her eyes. I know there's no point in telling her she can't convince me with the 'I'm fine' card. I know there's no way I can pull the words out of her. She won't tell me how she really feels. She'd probably flee the room if I insist with further questioning.

But no matter what she says or doesn't say, I won't go away.

She doesn't need to tell me anything. I'm here for her. Maybe she doesn't know how to voice her true feelings; maybe she believes that asking for support is being weak. I understand. If I were her, if I felt as bad as I'm sure she does, I wouldn't ask or say anything either. You can think whatever you want from it; that she's stubborn; that she's got too much pride to admit the fall; that she's just being thick-headed. To me, she just doesn't know how to handle all this.

For what she told me a week ago, this issue with her father's syndrome has been going on long enough to break anyone. She has had to stay calm as her whole world came crashing down on her. She's been trying not to let it get to her for over two years. She knows how to handle herself properly every time her dad had an episode. But now that the crack has reached her foundations; nothing seems to make sense. Maybe that's why she won't say anything; because she feels the need to stand up again by herself.

I'm not sure to which extend she believed what I said. I don't think she discards me as a mere liar; but she still doesn't trust me enough. I'm not really sure how much more I can do or say to gain her trust. But one thing is certain; I will not give up. I don't care how long it takes, I don't care if it never does; I'll be there always, lending her my shoulder every time she needs it, whether she asks for it or not.

Completely aware of the risky situation I will put myself in, I let my arms drop and walk over to the oversized comfy Weasley is at, still watching the snow fall. I reach the chair and with not a word, I sit myself beside the redhead and stare out the window along with her.

For the first time in my life, I don't care how she feels towards the young wizard sitting beside her. Because, at the moment, it is much more important to let her know she's not alone, than worrying what she thinks about me.

Actions speak louder than words.

I don't need to tell her she can trust me; I need her to realize so by herself. I need her to see, I will catch her; so she doesn't have to care how hard she may fall, because I'm not letting her hit the floor.

I stare out the window, and watch as the snow flakes fall one after another. After a few seconds, I can feel Weasley's hazel eyes on my face, so I turn my head to meet her gaze.

We stare at each other for a short while. Her beautiful, usually fiery eyes, drown in misery as they start watering. Her face is passive, expressionless; trying to hide how she really feels. I watch her mask slowly crumble and in a attempt to make her feel better, I smile to her.

I'm here Weasley; you don't have to be a genius to realize so.

Then she turns her face away from me. I'm guessing the tears have started to fall and she doesn't want to let me see her cry again. I respect that. So I turn back to the windows and wait.

"How do you get over it?" she asks, her voice hoarse, after a little while and a few sniffs.

I sigh and search for the right words before I give her an answer.

"You never really do." I now this is not what she wants to hear, but I can't lie to her; she needs to know it never goes away, that's the only way she can accept it and let herself be happy again. "But the pain eventually disappears and you'll be able to smile at those memories that make you cry right now." I turn my face back to her and find her staring at me with red, slightly swollen eyes, not caring that I see her cry any more. "Just give the bruise some time to stop throbbing."

I keep watching her as she looks back at the windows; I do the same, and do something I never thought I'd ever had the guts to.

I take her hand in mine, intertwine my fingers with hers and squeeze softly.

I can feel her eyes on my face again and I try not to look back at her. I can't see her expression; but I'd like to believe there's a small smile painting her beautiful face.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

_Scorpius,_

_I expect you _will_ be coming for the Christmas Holidays. Tap will be waiting for you at the Manor; I have a busy couple of weeks ahead, and as far as I know, you can disapparate, so I'm guessing there's no need to have you picked up._

_See you next weekend._

_Draco_

'As far as I know you can disapparate…' He hasn't picked me up for the last four years; what makes him think I'm expecting to be warmly received this time?

I look at the white, perfect parchment in my hands and reread my father's elegant handwriting once more before I dispose of the letter with a flick of my wand.

Oh, yes, the dreadful Christmas break is just at the end of the week. Most people couldn't be more excited about it; and I somewhat get it. Family quality time, home-made meals, gifts, pampering from the parents that have been missing you since you first entered the school… It couldn't get any better than that for most people.

Unfortunately, I'm part of the pathetic portion of the student body that would rather stay at Hogwarts than go home. If I could, I'd write to my father and tell him I'm planning on staying at the school; but he holds a Christmas Ball every year, and it is too bloody important for the old man; to the extend that I find myself having to attend. But do not get me wrong, I do not attend for my father's sake, I go because I am _forced_ to; as in '_If-you-do-not-come,-I-will-personally-go-to-that-bloody-school-and-drag-you-to-the-Manor_'kind of forced.

What can I say? This man is one hell of an actor, and he has convinced pretty much the entire Magical Community that he is a wonderful father and that our relationship is exemplary.

I must say, it's been a long time since I've had fantasies of not going home; but until last summer I was legally tied to Draco Malfoy; which in my world means to have a magical bond with him that prohibits me to run away. Yes people, for those who didn't know, there _are_ spells that bind people together unwillingly, which are _approved_ by the Ministry. No, it doesn't matter how much good there's been implemented in the Government, there still are twisted minds, such as my father's, that find use to this kind of despicable spells.

Gladly, the spell was broken the second I turned 17; but still I have to go back, at least once more. No, I'm not going back to please my father one last time. I'm going home because I need to retrieve a few things from the house; you know, stuff my mother used to possess but that are currently storied away in the basement. I need to get them now; so just a minute after my Graduation is over I can fly away and never have to set foot under my father's roof again.

"School is officially over, and yet here you are, hiding behind books like a pathetic Ravenclaw." a little voice says in my ear, making my thoughts lose their course.

"Glad to see you again, Elle."

"We need to talk." The brunette says coldly as she takes the seat across the table, moving all the books I had gathered to the side, so we can talk face to face.

"Do we? I thought you were done with me for a while now actually." I reply looking up from the Charms book I had been reading before my father's owl interrupted me.

"Don't give me that rubbish." She says, narrowing her dark catlike brown eyes at me.

I hold her gaze, shooting her same glare back at her. After a few seconds I look away and back to my book. I'm not in the mood to deal with Elle at the moment. I have much more important things to worry about.

"What are you doing here exactly?" I ask her annoyed "Shouldn't you be planning your perfect Holidays with Goyle and Zabini?"

"I don't give a shit about Leonard." She says after a short pause, leaning back in her chair and giving me quite a smirk.

"Then why do you put up with him?"

"Because I care for Charlotte, and that's what, as her friend, I must endure."

I look up from my book again. Elle is just staring at her hands, checking her nails.

If that's what friends do, then, were you ever mine, Elle? We made a promise, remember? Always together. Has Charlotte changed that? You put up with someone you dislike so much like Leonard Zabini for her; and then again who did you turn your back to for me? No one. You chose Charlotte. So I guess we were never real friends; just acquaintances, weren't we?

"Rumour has it you've been worrying a lot about a certain redhead." she suddenly says looking back at me, her gaze even harsher than before, almost hateful.

"Haven't heard of it." I say coolly, looking away dismissing the comment as nonsense.

"That's because you don't come down to the dungeons any more." she replies, resentment evident in her soft voice.

I look back at her and we stare at each other, or rather glare at each other, for quiet a while before I kill the silence.

"Whose exquisite mind came up with such rumour? Leonard's or Charlotte's?" I ask, leaning back in my seat, crossing my arms at my chest and smirking slightly.

I wonder how they found out. And surprisingly I don't care they have. I always kept it a secret, the way I felt for Weasley, I mean. I never thought I'd see the day when I wouldn't mind voicing my feelings so openly.

"No." Elle replies "Luke's."

"Luke?" I did not see that one coming "He's been telling everyone that I like Weasley?"

"No." Elle says, crossing her arms across her chest as well as she gave me an annoyed face "It's just a theory he shares only with his girlfriend."

I stare at the brunette and I find myself surprised at the slight blush that starts to spread across her cheeks, although her expression doesn't match with the sudden colour.

"Finally." I smile at my not that much of a friend "Since when?"

"Since you shut him out of your life." she shoots at me with a glare.

"I didn't shut him out." I sigh, not feeling like continuing with this stupid glaring contest.

"Of course." she dismisses my words as a mere excuse. We keep quiet for a little while before, being who she is, Elle goes for the heart of the issue "So, is he right?"

I stare at her. Her jaw is set, her eyes narrow and resentful, her mouth is a fine, unforgiving line. And then I realize, she wants me to say _no_. She wants me to deny any kind of feeling I might have towards Rose. But why? I know they don't get along, but the look in Elle's eyes is not the one a friend has when their friend likes someone they don't. No, this look is different. It's almost like she has decided that based on my answer, she'd cut me out of her life. If that's what's on her mind, I'm afraid this is were 'us' is no more.

"What is it to you?" I ask coldly, looking at her eyes still.

"Sorry, I didn't hear the 'no' in your answer."

I was right, wasn't I?

"Think whatever pleases you, Elle." I say standing up and gathering the books I intend to take out.

"Just tell me he's wrong, that's all I need." She stands up and I find myself disturbed at the hopeful glint in her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't bare to lose you; not to a Gryffindor, even less a Weasley." she says, almost spitting the last word.

I stare at Elle, _my _Elle. I cannot believe my ears. Why would it be so horrible? What could possibly be wrong with Rose that my friend wouldn't want me to be with her?

"It doesn't mater." I reply coldly, not daring to look at the dark brown eyes that from now on will only glare at me "I've lost _you_."

With not another word, I walk over to the librarian and watch her check the books I'm borrowing.

I'm sorry Elle, but I cannot lie to you, or myself. I love being in love with Rose, and I'm not afraid to admit it any more. But I don't want to tell you something you don't want to hear. I'm sorry our friendship, not only hasn't been what I thought, but seems weak enough to rely on conditions. I care for you, I always have and will, that's why I rather not voice the words you might be dreading the most right now. I just wish you cared for me enough to accept the way I feel.

You've made your choice, I've made mine.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I keep walking downstairs to the Slytherin common room.

I didn't want him to have to come to a conclusion himself. He's my friend; I should have told him. He must be really mad at me. I did hint him I cared for her, but I haven't told him what I really feel. I've been so caught up in trying to comfort Rose that I forgot Luke and I haven't settle things yet. He must believe I'm still mad at him for what happened at the last match. I should have told him everything was fine. I should have told him about this whole being in love thing since I first realized it myself; because that's what friends do, right? Trust each other.

I mean, I know my idea of a friend has been pretty unrealistic. I think I understand what a friend is now. It's someone you can trust, all the way; someone who does know you upside down, right to left.

How couldn't I see it? I never trusted Elle, not really; and look where that ended. But this won't happen with Luke. He is a real friend, he's been there; but just up until now I've finally realized so.

I can fix this. I'll tell him myself, I let him know, I'll trust him; and then it'll all be fine.

"Rumour has it I've been worrying a lot about a certain redhead." I ask the tanned boy sitting on the couch once I enter the empty green room "Care to share your opinion in the matter?"

"I'm assuming Elle told you." he replies coldly as he stares long into the empty fireplace.

"And the lovely news." I say walking further into the room, leaning against one of the couch's arms "Congratulations on that. At least one of us isn't a coward any more."

He says nothing.

"So?" I push.

"So?" He fires back.

"How did you-?"

"Not everyone is as unaware of their surroundings as you are, Scorpius." he cuts me off rather aggressively "Leonard is not that brilliant of an observer. Anyone who knows you enough can recognize those little things that give you away."

Taken aback, I stare at the bloke. Why is he being so harsh? Is he that mad at me for not telling him?

"Since when have you had this 'theory'?" I ask casually, trying to not let his aggressiveness get to me.

"Since we were eleven."

At that I can't help but let my jaw drop. Since we were eleven? How...? I mean... Why did he...? What...?

"I've known you for ten years, Scorpius. Do you honestly think I would never catch the way you look at Weasley?" he says looking at me, understanding my lack of words just perfectly "Ever since we got sorted, you've had this weird and somewhat annoying twinkle in your eye when you look at her; a twinkle I've only seen when you fly."

He stands up from the couch and starts walking towards his dorm; but before he opens the door, he seems to change his mind and turns back to face an astounded me.

"You know, for a couple of years I thought my sight was playing with me; I was hoping it would." he says frustrated "I even came up with the idea of fucking her up three years ago, so I could prove to myself I was just seeing things. But no. My bloody plan back fired on me." he says looking at me like he was _disappointed_ "I was so sure that you'd agree... That you wouldn't let me down. That you would never stand up for a Weasley. And yet you did. And it almost cost me your friendship."

He starts pacing hysterically. He looks like I had just told him I murdered the Minister.

"I tried convincing myself it was just a silly crush." he keeps going "I turned my back on my brother, believing eventually you'd come to your senses. I was just waiting for the _bloody_ twinkle to disappear so we could just talk to Leo and let everything go back to normal!" he says angrily as he turns to look me in the eye "But after three years and another massive fight with my brother, you have not proven me wrong! 'Because I care', you dare say!"

I stare at Luke's dark blue eyes, not believing the things he just said.

Is that so? He too thinks I'm a idiot for loving Rose? Hold on... what does this mean? I-I thought he'd understand. I thought he'd accept it and, I don't know, be my only real friend perhaps? So, what now? He too will banish me from his life like Elle just decided to do? Is this really how things are meant to end?

"What do you want me to do, Luke?"

"I want you to tell me it's not real." he says aggressively, looking at me like he couldn't believe I don't see the obviousness of the whole thing "I want to hear you say you just think she's hot or something, that you just like the way she looks; and not _her_."

I do see the obvious. I'm obviously an idiotic git; for believing everything he ever said. So, at the end, I have no friends whatsoever, do I? I can't believe he suspected this for so long, even played with me just to prove himself wrong; and still he doesn't want to accept a truth I so gladly embrace.

"I can't do that." I say coldly, staring at the one person whom I thought would understand.

"Are you serious? Do you honestly, truly fancy her?!" he yells, frustrated, annoyed, angry at me.

"No." I reply before heading for the exit "I love her."

I walk out and head upstairs, not bothering to look where I'm going.

So, this is it? I have no one left? I feel so... bad. I feel alone all of the sudden. I cannot believe I have absolutely no one I can really trust. Why can't they accept my heart's choice? If I'm OK with it; me, who's the moron bound to get hurt eventually for a one-way love; how come they can't? Ten years mean nothing then. Seven years mean even less. I feel like a fool. So they have all the right to love whoever they want, but I don't? They can love each other; Charlotte and Leonard, Luke and Elle; but I cannot love Rose? Is my life meant to be ruled my conditions? What happened to unconditional love? I care for them, or at least I did, with their defects and weird choices, but at the first thing I want that they do not approve of, they cut me off. That's not what I thought my relationship with them would be. I guess I've been living my entire life with my eyes closed.

"Hey."

I hadn't realized I arrived to my Tower and that Weasley is currently standing in front of me, looking rather worried.

"Hey." I sigh and walk over to my bedroom, letting myself fall to the bed once I reach it.

"Are you Ok?" she asks from the door frame.

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks and I smile at the turn of events. I was the one supposed to comfort her, not the other way around.

"It's not worth one breath." I reply. No, it really isn't.

"Well, if it ever does, I-" she pauses shortly "You can trust me."

She then closes the door behind her.

I can trust her... Yeah, that sounds nice.


	17. Eyes Wide Open Part II: Rose

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, any of its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J.**

**A/N: Ok everyone! Second part's up! I believe I ate too much candy today, cause this part ended up a lot sweeter than I had thought it would. You'll see a brand new side of Rosie, this time it won't be sad! I promise! I really need to turn the volume down on the teary feeling the last chapters have had, and hopefully you'll smile at this chapter!**

**Special reply to grugles: I don't mean to sound rude, but I'd appreciate if you don't judge me as an author. No, I did not correct Chapter 7; the document is not in my data any more and I haven't had the time to copy from the post and correct the freaking sentence. I appreciate you took the time to highlight my mistake, but to assume I don't pay attention to my reviews (which I actually reply) or that I don't care about the accuracy in my stories, for me, it's just going too far. I have corrected it now, so there you go; and please do not judge me again.**

**Well, now that's out of the way, I'd like to present to you the second part of chapter 16. Hope you enjoy it, thank you very much for all the reviews! And Happy Reading!! :D**

**Chapter 16**

"**Eyes Wide Open"**

**Part II: Rose**

_Dear Rosie,_

_I just wanted to remind you Ginny and I will be picking you lot up tomorrow night at the King's Cross Station. Your mum is expecting you and Hugo at the Burrow. Ginny sends hugs and kisses and James asked me to tell you he brought some books for you. I'd like to know what it is that you need James' help for, but I won't ask anything, I promise._

_Much Love,_

_Your uncle Harry._

I read my uncle's unpolished handwriting once more and sigh in relief. It's nice to know James will try helping me instead of giving up like everyone else.

I know I've been told many, _many_ times my dad is gone for good; but I refuse to give up. I know there's a chance the books James took from St Mungo's for me won't be of any help, but I have to keep trying. I'm strong, I don't give up. And if I fail, for the first time in my life, I am completely certain I have someone to rely on. I have someone to assure me everything will be fine.

The funny part is that I never thought Scorpius Malfoy would be that one person.

I look up from the crumpled piece of parchment in my hands to the blonde young wizard sitting at the fireplace, reading a Qudditch manual.

I watch as his silver eyes scan the page at a steady pace, and remember a week ago when those same eyes looked at me and told me I could always count on him.

I had never let anyone hold my hand like that. I'm not sure what it is that won't let me put my defences up in front of Malfoy; but one thing I do know, is that I don't really mind. He may be the last person I thought would be the kind that makes you feel better with such little gestures. And I almost feel like I'm the only one who knows that; because if Charlotte Goyle really knew what she had, she wouldn't have let him go.

I never thought it was possible to change your mind about someone so drastically in such little amount of time. I never even _imagined_ one day I'd be glad to be so close to Malfoy. Ever since I was eleven, he was just an annoying, hypocrite, closed little brat whom I would never befriend. I guess time can change anything. I guess it is true when people say that you find the most worthy things where you never bothered to look.

He's still rather quiet, he's still cold; but I don't need pretty words or hugs or to be concerned about. What I need is what he's given me. Silence.

But these silences, this little pieces of time when we both keep quiet; aren't the same I share with my cousins, or my brother, or my mother. No, they aren't charged with sadness or sympathy or worry. They're filled with understanding, with smiles, with those little things that make you want the silence to never be over.

I sigh, not sure why these thoughts keep running in my mind; it's been almost three weeks since I can't make my head stay away from thinking about Malfoy.

It's not that I don't like thinking these things; I'm just a little scandalized by the amount of relief, not to say joy, they bring to me.

It's nice having someone to trust, don't get me wrong; but Malfoy's words and gestures just won't leave my mind. I'm even starting to worry about a new found affection for the bloke. He's my unofficial friend, that's it. He's just being nice to me, that's all.

Nothing more.

"Aren't you hungry?" I suddenly hear and it takes me five seconds to realize the question was directed to me.

"No." I say to Malfoy's profile. He's still at the fireplace, but his book is closed now.

"I'm starving." he says and gets up, placing the book on the low table and walking over to the portrait hole. "Sure you don't want anything?"

"Just go eat, Malfoy." I tell him and watch him smirk slightly before the portrait closes behind him.

I turn my head to the fireplace and stare long into the flames.

Tomorrow will be a very bad day. And the next month is bound to be even worse.

Sighing, I get up from the double comfy chair that had been my niche for a couple of weeks now. I walk to my room, close the door and kneel in front of my half done trunk. My belongings are all scattered inside. Against my own will, I start organizing the organizable and dispose of the disposable. As I fold my robes as neatly as I can, there's a soft tap in my window. I turn around to meet a beautiful auburn owl, waiting patiently for me to let it in.

I stand up and open the window. The owl just raises her tiny leg and flies again once I retrieve the letter.

_Red-o,_

_I'm back home. I brought all the books I could find about magical brain injuries. I haven't had the time to read much; but as soon as I get rid off everyone asking how everything is going at the hospital, I'll get with the reading. I'll go with mum and dad tomorrow to pick you and everyone up, I'll try handing you some books before we drop you off at The Burrow._

_I've got to go, dinner is ready. Talk to you tomorrow,_

_Much love,_

_Jam-o_

I stare at James' letter for a few minutes after I read it.

I'm one day away from learning all I possibly can about the Clock's Syndrome.

I know I should let the issue rest. I know that whatever I may find is a possibility healers have already tried. As a training healer himself, James has warned me the chances we do discover a way to bring my dad back one last time are incredibly remote. Those chances would probably be so improbable that the healers that have treated my father don't even consider them. I don't care how small of a chance I got, I have to try. I owe my dad that much. I will not give up on him.

If I do, I will never be able to look at him in the eye again. _I have to try_.

Just when I have unmasked an inevitable truth, I will accept my certain defeat and burn my flag.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"How are you feeling, Rosie?"

I watch as snow filled surroundings of the school fly by the window in a remarkable speed, when I have the feeling I'm being spoken to.

"What?" I ask dumbfounded.

"How are you feeling?" Al asks, his voice sounding just a tiny bit annoyed at my lack of attention.

"I'm fine." I say and turn back to the windows.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." I mumble, trying not to sound as irritated as I'm starting to feel.

I then turn my eyes to the people I'm sharing the compartment with. Hugo is sitting across from me reading the back of a chocolate frog wrapper. Lily is sitting between my brother and Fred, laughing at some joke Roxy just finished. Lucy is sleeping, her head leaning to Molly's shoulder as she reads some muggle fashion magazine. Nick sits on the floor playing wizarding chess with his little sister, Anne.

"Hey, mum told me James is coming to meet us tonight." Al says yawning as he rests his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, he told me." I reply "I asked him to bring me a few books from the Hospital, just in case there's something we haven't tried yet. He said he'd hand me a few today. I think that's why he's coming. I don't kn-."

"You have to stop, Rosie." Al suddenly cuts me off, lifting his head and looking worriedly at me.

"What? Why?" I ask staring at his emerald eyes, wondering why the sudden passion to stop me from looking at any other possibilities of helping my dad.

"Because it's not healthy." he says, not measuring the volume of his voice. "Your mum told you to knock it off."

"Well, I've never been one to listen to my mother, have I?" I reply irritated, stand up and head for the compartment door.

"Rosie, don't-"

"I have rounds to make." I cut him off before I close the sliding glass panel behind me.

Annoyed out of my mind I mean to just walk the anger off; but I'm interrupted even before I take more than a couple of steps.

"Rosie, what's wrong?" Nick asks worried.

I turn around and meet his baby blue gaze. I try telling him my research plans for the holidays and the experiments I'll be doing if I find something worth testing; but I can't. Nick is probably the best friend I have besides Albus himself; and I can't bring myself to tell him that my cousin is being a git for demanding me to stop trying helping my own father. I mean to explain myself; explain that I don't want to just sit back and hear my dad call me Mione for the rest of his life. But I can't; I just can't.

For some unknown reason to me, I cannot tell Nicolas Wood what I want to do. The words just won't come out. He wouldn't understand. If Albus doesn't, how on Earth would Nick, someone who has never experienced something like what I'm going through, get the uselessness I feel at the moment?

"Nothing. I truly have to make rounds." I say, trying to sound convincing. "That's what Heads do, you know."

I turn around and start walking ahead. I don't hear the compartment door being shut, but honestly, I'm practically running down the hallway; I don't think I'd hear it anyway. As I walk rapidly, I try finding a compartment for myself; which really shouldn't be that hard. Although, if I remember correctly, most of the school is going home for the holidays. I keep walking and soon I find myself at the first compartment of the train; the one I should be occupying in the first place. Without hesitation, I walk in and find the room empty. I don't know why, but I think I expected to find Malfoy once I slid the door open.

Is that why I ended up here? Because I was unconsciously looking for Malfoy?

I shake my head and try no to think of any hidden reasons my brain, or legs, or whatever part of me that might have taken me here, has to do so. I take the seat by the window and stare outside for comfort. Snow has started to fall again; and all I see is a white blur.

I don't understand Al's reaction to my plan; if James is fine with it, why can't Albus be? Why is it so bad that I want to keep trying? Because I might not get any answers? I know that. I'm not really sure what to do if that happens; but I'm prepared for it. It's not like I have this blind hope that by tomorrow night I'll have my dad back. I know that all I'm doing is probably not even worth the time; but I want to do it nevertheless. I can't just give up.

"Weren't you sharing a compartment with your family?" a voice snaps me out of my trance.

I look at the compartment door and see Malfoy sliding it close behind him. Surprisingly I feel that kind of relief one feels when you're waiting for someone and that person finally arrives.

"I was."

I say nothing more and he takes the seat beside me. A while passes in one of those characteristic silences that are Malfoy's eternal companions and I sigh; knowing that I'm dying to speak my mind and that he's willing to listen.

"Malfoy?"

"Yeah." he mumbles, yawning slightly.

"If I told you I'm planning on trying to find a way to bring my dad back, knowing I might not get anywhere, would that make me a crazy person?" I ask him "Because my family apparently thinks so, which I honestly do not understand. I mean, I don't think I'm crazy; but then again crazy people don't consider themselves as crazy precisely."

"I'm not sure I understand your ramblings." he says, sounding truly confused.

I turn my head to face him and sigh.

"My cousin James, Albus' older brother, is a training healer at St Mungo's and he's coming home for the holidays." I start "I asked him to bring me as much information as he could find about the Clock's Syndrome and any other brain deceases." I look at Malfoy's silver eyes, searching for some sign of possible mockery and find myself feeling happy at the absence of such mischief "I intend to learn all I can about my dad's condition in order to try finding a way to bring him back again. I know it sounds stupid, not to say highly unrealistic, and I know maybe it won't work; but I just need to do it." "Does that make me mentally unstable?"

"Not to me." he says after a short pause as he looks at the Quidditch book I hadn't noticed he had been reading. "If I were you, I'd do the same, honestly."

I analyse what he just said and realize what he must mean. I guess that when his mother was diagnosed, he was too young to consider finding some information about the decease. I think he means that if he had had the opportunity to do something, _anything_, he wouldn't have let that chance pass him by.

"But I must say, I would ask myself if I really want to know the truth." he says, looking back at me.

"What do you mean?"

He stares into my eyes for a couple of seconds before he places the book beside him, turning in his seat to face me properly.

"Let's say you _do_ find a way and manage to bring him back, what if he goes away again?" he explains "Or let's say you don't find anything. Are you prepared for the consequences of both sceneries?"

"I am." I assure him immediately "I don't really know what I'd do then, but I'm mentally prepared for it. I won't have another meltdown."

"Then I don't see any harm on trying." he says softly.

"I just feel that if there _is_ a dead end, I want to find it myself, not just be told there's no way around the it." I'm finally capable of putting in words my real intention.

"I understand." he nods.

"Yeah; apparently, just you." I snort slightly, my mind going back to Al's reaction and the possibly scandalized faces of the rest of my family.

"If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't listen to Potter; he's just a git." Malfoy says, chuckling slightly.

"Hey; he's my friend, _and_ my cousin." I say in Albus' defence.

"How much of an understanding friend is he, saying you're crazy just because you refuse to give up?" Malfoy buries his eyes on mine, displaying a tiny smirk.

"Well, he... uhm... _That_ is a good question." I'll give him that "But he didn't _say_ I was crazy. I don't know; I think he's trying to push some consideration in me."

"Consideration?" He lifts a pale eyebrow.

"Yeah." I sigh and turn to watch outside the window "My mum wants me to stop thinking about this whole thing, and my brother seems to be doing well given the circumstances." I confess "I think Al just wants me to think about them before I try anything that might hurt them."

"Why?" Malfoy asks and I turn back to him to question his remark "I mean, they don't need to know what won't harm them."

I stare at the blonde bloke. He stares at me. He looks pretty honest at the moment and I think he doesn't mean anything bad with his suggestion.

"So, you're saying I should try finding my way behind their backs?" I ask.

"I know it doesn't sound appealing, but it's the best choice." he says "If you don't find anything, they never expected you to, so they wouldn't be disappointed or keep any false hope; they wouldn't even know what you were doing anyway." Ok, I think I get it "And if you do find your way; you just break the news to them."

But what he said, about consequences, wouldn't that harm them anyway? It would hurt them, without a doubt, if I manage to bring dad back and then having him go away also. Although, in case I do find something, I'd just have to come up with a way to know if it's temporarily, and if it is, for how long my dad would be lucid. Nevertheless if he just comes back one more time, before going away for good, I think it'd be fair to let my family know; then maybe we could all farewell him properly. Then I guess I'll keep it a secret; and if I do bring my dad back to us, I'd have to let them know I'm unsure of what it's come after that.

"Yeah." I mumble out loud "I guess I'll keep it a secret."

We keep quite for a while. I've made my mind. I will do the research I planned on doing. I will do my best to try finding an answer. I will not give up. I will not build up false hopes. I will keep my head over my shoulders. It doesn't matter if whatever I try works or not; because now I know just not giving up on my dad, it's a triumph itself.

"Hey, aren't you joining your friends' compartment?" I ask Malfoy, suddenly wondering why he's here and not with the rest of the Slytherins of our year.

"Nah." he says as he stares out the window behind me "I'm not welcome any more."

"What? Why not?"

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds and I'm starting to think that maybe he doesn't trust me enough to tell me why he isn't getting along with his friends.

"I've chosen to do something they neither understand, nor accept." He suddenly says.

I stare at his silver eyes as they keep lost in the blowing snowy wind at the other side of the window. I know I shouldn't, but I my lips can't help but curve upwards. I guess he does trust me, doesn't he?

"Is it worth it?" I ask him quietly, noting his determined look.

"To be ditched by my friends?"

"Well, if the ditched you, they weren't very friendly, were they?" I try lighting up the mood, and smile at myself again as I hear him chuckling.

"Guess not." he says smiling slight; yes, smiling, not smirking "But it is worth very second I'm alone."

I wonder what could possibly in this world paint such a smile in his face. Then I realize I had never seen him smile like that in the six years I had seen him around. I believe it's the fist time I see his silver eyes match the happy curve of his lips. I guess he's being more honest now that he has ever been to anyone; because that kind of peace of mind doesn't usually come out, unless it's real. Whatever it is that he chose, most really make up for the things he's giving up. And I can't help but be glad his willing to show such openness to me; me, who not too long ago he didn't get along with, who has been pretty rude to him, who has been so much of a closed book in return of his own closeness.

"You're not alone." I then say "As corny and stupid as it may sound, you can always turn to me, Malfoy."

Then he laughs. Yes, laughs, not simple chuckles, not just a smile; a real joyful laugh. I had never in my life heard such a charming laugh.

"Don't laugh, I'm serious."

"I know." he says, still laughing slightly.

"I mean, I don't usually open up to people, I don't cry, I don't talk feelings; and yet again, I now trust you enough, despite my better judgement, to do those things without regretting them." this can be considered a feeling talk itself, which I normally don't do, which just emphasizes every word I just said "I guess what I'm trying to say is that you were there for me when I was in need; so it is only fair that I am there for you as well."

"Thanks." he says after a little while.

"That's what friends are for." I shrug.

"Oh, so we are friends now?" he asks amused.

"We are indeed." I nod, pretending not to be annoyed by his amusement and faked surprise.

"Nice. So what are you getting me for Christmas?"

"Who said I was getting you anything?" It's my turn to laugh now.

"Then what kind of friendship is this?! And here I was wondering if you'd like what I got you!"

"Of course." I dismiss the idea, trying my hardest not to laugh my lungs out.

"Do you want anything from the trolley, dears?"

I look up and my eyes find the trolley lady and her candies. I mean to say I'm fine, but my stomach doesn't quite agree; so both, Malfoy and I, end up buying two boxes of Bertie Bott's every flavour beans and a handful of chocolates frogs each.

"My mum hates this things." I say taking a box of beans and putting it back down to eat a chocolate frog.

"So does my father." Malfoy says smiling, reading the back of his wrapper.

"They should really get together some time."

"And what? Discuss which of us is the worst at listening to them?" he ask, sounding highly amused by my suggestion.

"Yeah." I nod.

"I'd probably win."

"Well aren't you confident?" I ask, feeling pretty amused myself.

"I mean it." he replies at my mockery "One day, have the time to go have a word with my father. I bet it'll take him a day and a half to say all the things he's wanted me to be and that I'm not."

"Well I believe that's another reason for our parents to be friends." I laugh.

"Why?" he chuckles.

"I've never been able to meet my mother's expectations of the way I should be." I think for a couple of seconds and then reply "Well, actually I have; I just don't want to any more."

He stares at me with smiling silver eyes and takes one of his bean boxes. He opens it and takes out two beans of the same flavour, I believe it's lime. Then he stretches his hand out and offers me one of the beans.

"Join the club."

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

It's dark outside and the snow seems to be falling lightly instead of the menacing manner they had been falling all afternoon. I take my eyes off the window and look down to my shoulder, where a blonde head fell to about an hour and a half ago.

It's so funny to see Malfoy's sleeping face. I smile to myself and look back at the window, expecting to arrive at King's Cross soon.

Malfoy and I spent pretty much the entire day laughing our stomachs out. Whether it was comparing our parents' ridiculous attitudes towards certain situations, or just comparing Quidditch professional teams. I must admit I hadn't left this happy for such a long time, it's almost overwhelming; not to mention, rather sad, since we won't meet again until next month, when the term starts back again. I think I might miss the blonde bloke; more than I had ever imagined. And I came to realize it's Ok to miss him, right? He's my friend now... On that note, maybe I _will_ get him something for Christmas, whether he was serious about getting me something or not.

Sooner than I had expected, I'm able to perceive the train slowing down and the train station coming to sight.

"Malfoy, wake up." I shake my shoulder lightly, so I don't startle him.

"What?" he asks, half sleep, lifting his head slightly.

"We're almost there." I say and take the chance to stand up as soon as his head is more inclined to himself than to me. "I have to pick up my trunk at my family's compartment."

"Right." he says, standing up himself. "Then I guess I'll see you in a month."

"Sure, mate." I smile to him and head for the door. But something takes over me, making me turn around.

I see his eyes questioning me, but I don't care. I walk up to him and put my arms around his waist.

"Merry Christmas, Scorpius." I say to my new friend.

"Merry Christmas, Rose." he takes a second to reply to the top of my head. I had never realized how much taller than me he is.

Then I let go and smile once more before I leave the compartment feeling pretty content. For the first time I have a friend completely to myself. He's not my relative, he's not my relatives' friend; he's _mine_, no one else's.

"Hey." Al says as soon as I slide open the door, not displaying the annoyed look I thought he'd have. "Here's your trunk."

He hands me my luggage and waits for me to leave the compartment, before walking out himself. As soon as we both step out of the train, the small multitude of redheads give away our family's location.

Hugo, Fred, Roxy, Molly, Lucy and Lily are all gathered around Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny while they speak to Mr. and Misses Wood. Al and I join everyone. As Al bids Nick goodbye I look around, trying to find James, instead my eyes meet a couple of silver ones a few yards away. He smiles and nods goodbye, before heading to the platform's exit and disappearing behind the bricked wall.

I keep staring at the spot where Malfoy disappeared, knowing once I walk through that same wall, I'll have to start pretending to be someone I'm not for my dad's sake.

This will be a long, long, Christmas break.

"Red-o." I hear in my ear and turn to meet a couple of dark hazel eyes. "Long time no see."

"Jam-o, long time indeed." I smile at my older cousin before he hugs me. "Don't let anyone else see the books you brought." I whisper to him as soon as my mouth is close enough to his ear. "Especially Albus."

"What? Why?" he whispers back, not letting go of our façade just yet.

"I'll explain it to you later." I say and let go.


	18. Two Runaways' Night Out

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Ok everyone! I'm proud to present to you chapter 17!! I've been writing my ass off for the last two days and a half and this is probably the longest chapter I've ever written. Just like the last one, it is focus in both Scropius' and Rose's points of view. I did not cut this one because it was pointless. I know some of you really want romance; but I really think it's necesary to bring the characters together at a natural pace, instead of BOOM! there they are! I don't know if it makes sense; but I'm trying to make this story as realistic as it can get.**

**Anyway, thanks for all the reviews!! Hope you like this chapter! It's a really long one, so I'm expecting really long reviews!! ;)**

**Happy Reading dears!!!**

**Chapter 17**

"**Two Runaways' Night Out"**

_**Rose**_

"Would you like some juice, Hugo?"

_The Clock's Syndrome is a rare magical disease which affects the brain of any wizard or witch._

"Yes, please."

_It is caused by physical or psychological trauma; sometimes a mixture of both conditions; and it consists of three stages: Short Memory, Medium Retention and Re-existence._

"You, Mione?"

_The short memory stage it's rarely perceptible; it manifests itself through short lapses of memory loss. The episodes suffered during this stage don't last long and are usually taken as a patient's bad memory._

"Mione?"

_The Clock's Syndrome is newly discovered; thus, healers lack of a consistent cure for it. There are very few confirmed reports of detection of the disease at the first stage, (around 3%) but a treatment is now in try outs, so far, gaining good results by very simple means (View page 780 for details)._

"Mione?!"

I look up from my book to find a pair of blazing blue eyes staring at me.

Dad is holding a glass of pumpkin juice in front of me, a questioning and slightly annoyed look on his face. I just smile and nod.

"You know your aunt doesn't like you to read while eating." he says setting the glass next to my untouched meal.

I close the book I had been reading and take a sip of juice. I watch as my dad turns to Hugo and starts talking about Quidditch. Dad was told his son was Hugo Prewett, a long lost cousin of the Weasleys. I have to admit, my brother is quite an actor. I always thought he would have a tough time facing dad, because he can't recognize his own son; but he's doing just fine; even a little too fine for my liking...

"What are you reading now, Mione?" dad asks as he reaches to grab the medical book sitting beside my elbow. "Again _Hogwarts: A History_?"

"No." I reply quickly and take the book before he can see the title.

He gives me a weird look but settles back to his meal. I keep the book on my lap and mean to just eat, but I catch my mother's eyes from across the kitchen. Crap! She saw that, didn't she?

"Hello." she says as she walks over to the counter and takes a glass.

"Hi, Jean." Dad says. He thinks my mum is her aunt, Jean; who in reality, does not exist.

Mum sits beside me and takes a sip of juice, just like I am. No one says a word, we all just focus on our lunch. I know how uncomfortable this scene must sound; and I have to admit it is. My mum cannot greet neither Hugo nor I in a way a mother does because that makes my dad suspicious, and... well, let's just say the last thing we need is for him to worry. He's quite curious, not to say sneaky, given all the practice he had in his teens along with my mother and my uncle Harry. If he's given enough reason, he will dig into our behaviours and will, eventually, get confused; if we let that happen, it'll take a long while and several potions to calm him back down.

"Oh, I see you are all digging in already." Grandma Molly says smiling as she enters the kitchen.

"I was starving, mum; and Hugo here needs a good lunch; we're going for a fly before the Christmas dinner tonight. I heard we'll have snow by the end of the afternoon, we better take advantage of the day." dad says enthusiastically.

"What are you saying, Ronald? You're for-" Grandma suddenly stops.

"What?"

"You've forgotten about the Christmas preparations, huh?" I say trying to repair my Grandmother's slip.

"I'll do them later."

"Alright then." Grandma says, turning around. I'm guessing she's trying to hide her sadden face from her ill son.

Then dad stands up, smiling to himself and I hear him tell Hugo to hurry as he leaves for the living room.

"Oh, Merlin." Grandma whispers sadly and my mum walks up to her.

As mum tries comforting my Grandma, Hugo finishes up his lunch and walks out of the kitchen. I take my chance and walk out as well, before mum has the time to question me about the book I hold to my chest at the moment.

I walk out to the garden, instead of heading for my Auntie Ginny's old room. I sit under a huge tree, at the large swing Grandpa Weasley charmed from a few branches for Al and I when we were five. I open my book and keep on reading.

_The second stage of the disease, known as Medium Retention, consists on a larger scale of memory loss. The ill person cannot hold new information for very long, unless it is repeatedly instructed. Since, out of all cases of reported Clock's Syndrome, only 5% have been detected during this stage of the disease, the information healers hold of it is very little and the cure is still on development._

_The third and final stage is the most evident of them all; 92% of the patients have been diagnosed during it. It is known as the Re-existence stage, for a simple reason: At this advanced state, the Clock's Syndrome makes the ill re-live a certain time of their lives; whether it is childhood, adolescence or even part of their adulthood, it depends solely in the psychological nature of the period of time to which the person has gone back to._

_All 200 confirmed cases of the Clock's Syndrome around the globe in the last 8 years have shown no psychological pattern in the determination of the time the ill shall re-live. Such alarming state of medical investigation has made almost impossible for healers to now exactly what kind of emotion or feeling dictates the time the wizard or witch goes back to._

_This stage goes on for relatively short periods, lasting from one to seven days. A cure hasn't been discovered yet; but there has been enough development in the potion's area for an efficient treatment (View page 890 for details). However, the potions do not stop the disease; it only helps to control it, making sure an ill person has a lucid period of time twice as longer than the Re-existence episode. Unfortunately, due to the very recent discovery of the Clock's Syndrome, the potions for its treatment are effective for a certain amount of time, which has been different for every case, from a working period of three months to a maximum of a year and a half._

After that, the book starts explaining some other disease which I couldn't care less for. So, that's it? The bloody book hasn't told me one thing I didn't know already.

"Hello you."

I snap shut my disappointing book and look up to find a pair of emerald eyes looking down at me.

"Hello you." I greet Al.

"What are you reading?" he asks, glancing at the title I just covered with my hands.

"_Hogwarts: A History_."

"Why? Uncle Ron is not even near." he says as he sits beside me in the swing.

"I was just curious why my mum found it so interesting when she was young. Besides I have to do a few remarks about it when having a conversation with my dad." I say pretty convincingly... What? Hugo is not the only actor in the family "Where is he anyway?"

"He went to look for an extra broom, Fred is join us this time." Al says as he stares ahead. After a short while, he asks "Do you want to come along?"

Of course, what better than a Quidditch match to reassure my father I'm my mother?

"My mum never enjoyed Quidditch." I simply say.

"Oh, right. I forgot." Al says softly.

We keep quiet for a while. I watch Hugo and Fred talk as they wait for my dad. Fred is also supposed to be a missing cousin. He looks a lot like uncle George, but some of his features are those of Auntie Angelina. When he first came by during one of my dad early episodes, he introduced himself as Fred Weasley; my dad almost went mad, yelling that boy was not his brother. So we call Fred, Ian around my dad.

Despite the horrible time Fred had last year, I'm glad he seems fine now. At least neither he nor Hugo feel as bad as I do when facing my father. I'm starting to feel like I'm the only one that cares. Even Al doesn't seem to mind that my dad confuses him with Uncle Harry.

I guess my Uncle and my Auntie Ginny do feel bad about it; they can't come visit my dad, unless he's sleep or sedated. The same goes for the rest of my uncles and aunts. My cousins on the other hand can come; except for Victoire, Dominique and Louis; they all look too much like Auntie Fleur to be introduced as distant Weasley relatives. James can't really come either; apparently he looks too much like his paternal grandfather. Teddy doesn't come around much though he can; he just has to modify his face to look more like his dad. Personally I think it's rather unfair, not to say cruel, to ask him to do so. He never knew his father and I think it must be painful for him to have to look at his father's reflection so often, knowing it's not really him.

"Oi! Harry, come on!" my dad suddenly yells, making me jump.

"Got to go, Rosie." Al says, standing up. He kisses the top of my head before turning around and walking a few steps forward "Oh, James sends this."

Al walks back to me and hands me a crumpled letter before jogging his way to my dad, brother and cousin.

_Red-o_

_I've spent the last 10 days reading and I haven't found anything that could actually be of any use. I believe one of the books you have explains a way to bring the gone back but it's only effective during the first stage. However I finally managed to get some reports out unseen. I have read a couple, but I thought you might like to see them yourself. I have a problem though: I can't use the flu network (the files are way too delicate for that), and I can't owl them, Miki is too small to carry them all by herself. Maybe I can sneak to The Burrow tomorrow morning, before the gift-opening._

_Reply as soon as possible,_

_much love,_

_Jam-o_

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Rosie, hurry up." my mother whispers from the other side of the bathroom's wooden door.

I don't say anything; I just sink further under the soapy water, until half of my face is the only part of me visible.

After deciding to send my own owl, Tyto, to go help Miki with the files, I sat on my Auntie Ginny's old bed and waited for them. An hour later, both owls came through the window carrying seventy file of ten sheets each.

I found absolutely nothing... Seventy cases and _nothing_.

All the 'solutions' I read about were things we had already tried. Some reports stated having used pictures to bring the patient back; but they were cases at a secure first stage. We tried that once and my dad didn't even pay attention to the last family picture we had taken.

There were a few cases that used psychological tactics to confuse the patient and make him snap; but those never worked; the only thing they actually snapped was the patient's patience. Some other cases used a different strategy; they would tell the patient what was going on; you know, force them to understand the truth and come back. But that's pretty much what I had done every time my dad had an episode. I would tell him he had a daughter and a son and all that, and he would come back; but that's useless now; the disease is too far ahead for that to keep working.

A lot more just stated the use of potions; option which we tried, just managing to give him more time of lucidness; option which no longer works.

I guess this is it. I failed. There's nothing I can do. I know I had prepared myself for this, but I can't help but feel my heart throb. I repeated over and over again to myself there was a bigger chance I'd be wasting time than finding something worth trying. I know I had promised myself not to have another meltdown; and I won't, but _still_.

I know I shouldn't feel like this, I know I shouldn't be thinking what I'm about to admit; but I wish Malfoy was here.

Well, not here as in the bathroom, but _here;_ I don't know, somewhere at the house where I could just go and... just be myself and say out loud how frustrated I feel. I think I've got myself together better than before though; at least I knew what to expect this time around. But I can't help wanting a hug, a 'everything will be fine', even if it's a lie.

I sigh at my pathetic, sorrowful feelings and get out of the bathtub. After wrapping a towel around me, I walk over to the sink and start brushing my teeth. After drying my face and body, I start putting my clothes on. Mum bought me a new dress for this year's Christmas dinner. It's really pretty; casual, but elegant. I like purple, and the fabric; it's rather silky and metallic looking. I fix the thick straps over my shoulders properly and straighten the slightly puffy skirt softly with my hands. I put on a white half jumper and black tights to protect the exposed limbs the dress doesn't cover, from the cold. I put on my purple high heels, and brush and dry my hair.

After applying a little make up and spraying some perfume; I get out of the bathroom and walk back to my Aunt Ginny's room. I put my previous set of clothes on the bed and pick up all the files I had been reading. I pile them all up and count them to make sure I return every one of them.

Sixty-nine. Crap, I lost one.

I look around the room and before I thought possible, I find the file under the vanity. I don't really know why; but for some reason I scan the pages rapidly and suddenly stop at the last one.

_Conclusions:_

_Neither of the previous treatments have worked on the subject #135. The combination of pictures and psychological mind game was pending for trial, but given the subject has passed away due an age-influenced heart failure, such experiment could not be performed._

I had read this file before. I thought that it couldn't have any information I could use because the patient had died. But what if the combination of pictures and psychological mind game had been executed? Would it have worked? Could the combination of reported solutions for the first two stages be the answer for the third one?

Completely taken over by a sudden rush of hope, I put the file down and run upstairs to my Uncle Percy's old room, where family photos had been storied away to prevent my dad from ever crossing them. I open the door and start searching the boxes hysterically.

I find an old picture, taken at Hugo's first birthday party. All the family is there, smiling to each other; adults hugging their children close to them. In the middle sits my mum with a baby boy in her arms, at her right, stands my dad, holding quiet an energetic three year old ginger.

I stand up and run downstairs.

"Mione? What's wrong? You look flushed." dad says from the couch once I reach the living room.

"I'm not Mione, dad. I'm Rosie." I say, not caring at my brother's astounded face or Fred scared expression.

"What? I don't-"

I slam my hand to the small table in front of the couch leaving the picture for my dad to see.

"This," I point at my smiling mother "is not me. This is your wife." I point at the baby she's holding in the picture. "This is Hugo. He's not your cousin, he's your son. And I'm not Hermione Granger. I'm this little girl, Rosie, your daughter." I point at the baby he's holding. "You're not sixteen anymore. You're forty two years old." I keep pointing at the smiling faces of the picture. "This is Uncle Harry, he married your sister nineteen years ago. He," I point at the real life Albus that just walked in with a shocked face "is his second son. His name is Albus. This other little boy," I point at the little boy sitting on his father's shoulders "this is Harry's eldest, James."

"Rose!" I hear my mother exclaim behind me, but I don't care.

"I don't understand-" my dad starts mumbling.

"This is Fred, not Ian. He is Uncle George's eldest; this his sister Roxanne." I keep telling him who is who and who is not who he thinks they are.

"Rose! Stop!" Hugo claims my attention; I give him none.

"This is Teddy Lupin, Remus and Tonks' son. He'll be marrying Uncle Bill and Auntie Fleur's daughter, Victoire." I continue over my family's comments trying to make me stop.

"What are you saying Mione?!" My dad's starting to look confused, and annoyed and desperate.

"This are Dominique and Louis, your niece and nephew!" I start yelling over my family's voices, forcing my dad to hear mine.

"Wait! What?! I don't understand!!"

"This is Percy's wife, Audrey! And his daughters Molly and Lucy!" I keep pointing at the picture so furiously, the people in it aren't smiling anymore and all the children are mutely crying.

"Mione! Stop it, Mione!"

"I'm not Mione! She is!" I yell pointing at my mother "I'm your daughter! Rose! You named me that way!" I slam my hands at the table furious "Open your bloody eyes, Ronald!"

"That's enough Rose." I barely hear my mother as I feel a couple of hands forcing me to back away from my dad and walk out of the room.

"I don't understand!" dad yells, looking from Fred to Grandma Molly, who had entered the room unnoticed "What's going on?! Mione! Come back! Jean, bring her back!... Jean!"

"It's alright Ron!" I hear Hugo trying to calm my dad down.

"No!! What the bloody hell is happening?!"

Then a door slams shut and I realize I'm no longer in the living room.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I was just trying to bring him back." I reply, annoyed at my mother's soft voice.

"Who in the world told you that was even possible?"

"I read about it!" I snap "Some healers were going to try this with I-don't-know-who, but he died, so the experiment has been on hold since then and I thought-!"

"I don't believe you thought this through." she cuts me off "He's gone, Rosie. There's nothing you can do other than make him go insane."

"There is something I can do, you just won't let me!" I shout furiously.

"You're just hurting him further." she then says "Accept it Rosie. You need to accept this is our reality. Your father will not come back, it doesn't matter how much you want him to."

"No!" I yell at her "I'm not you! I will not let it go as easily as you have!"

I'm panting from all the shouting. My heart beats incredibly fast as I feel my face boil in fury.

"I did not give up." she says, her face completely calm and collected; and her voice still soft.

"Oh, really?!" I've never been one to put on a blank mask once my anger has found a way to release itself "I don't see you doing anything at all!"

I know I shouldn't yell at her. I know I should try calming down; but I can't. She's saying all this things about letting go and this and that; but I don't want to give up and she can't make me.

"Do you think I haven't searched every book in this planet trying to find a solution?" she asks, her voice slightly cold this time "Do you think I haven't considered what you just did? It doesn't work, Rose."

I stay there, standing on the frozen yard, staring at my mother as her words sink in.

"Just stay out of his sight until he calms down." she sighs. She then turns her back to me and gets inside the crocked four story house.

I stare at the closed door, my mind racing, understanding what my mother was trying to tell me.

What have I done? What was I thinking? I thought I had made myself clear when I said I wasn't relying on false hope! I was supposed to try and accept my defeat if it didn't work.

It didn't.

Mum's right, all I did was make it worse. What do I do now? I can't face her, or Hugo. I can't face Al or Fred, not even Grandma. And I certainly cannot face _dad_.

I can't go back in there and just stutter a pathetic apology. I just can't; and he'd probably won't even want to see me, let alone forgive me...

I need got get out of here.

So, without much thinking. I summon my hand bag and cloak from my aunt's room and start walking away from the house.

There's a disapparation point not too far from here.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

_**Scorpius**_

_December 26__th__, 2001._

_Yesterday was Scorpius' first Christmas. I convinced Draco to buy him his first broom. It's unbelievable how easy it is for my baby boy to stay on that plastic stick for such a long time. He can't even walk by himself and he's already flying around. At this pace he'll refuse to ever learn how to use his legs for something other than kick the ground to take off. He looks so happy though. Draco keeps telling me our son laughs just like me; oh! Yes, he laughed for the first time on Christmas morning; when his witty, little brain understood how exciting a broom could be!_

_Daphne is bickering me to take it away; but I've never been one to listen to my sister._

_If my son wants to fly all his life long, I will not stop him; as long as he's happy, I don't care what he chooses to do. I know he's not even a year old and that it's a little to early to think about the future he'll want; but I can't make my mind stop wondering what kind of man he'll become. I hope he grows to be a kind person and a brilliant wizard. I hope he chooses his life path wisely, and not let anyone force him into something he doesn't want to do. I hope he finds people who will make him happy... What am I saying? He's only_

The diary's entry stops there like she had been interrupted; she never finished it.

I find myself having a hard time swallowing; there's a lump in my throat, a lump I thought had been long gone. I stare at my mother's old diary and after a minute or so, I close the little blue book and keep searching the box I took it out from.

It's been two weeks since I came back to the Manor. A week and a half since I finally found the way to get to the basement. I spent three days down there, piling all the boxes I could find that were branded as my mother's possessions. The past week, I've been living locked in my bedroom sorting the boxes. At first I planned on just looking for things I would want to keep; but in a matter of minutes, I searched the boxes for the sake of just looking. I've already finished half of them. They just have clothes and shoes; still I couldn't help but take all the gowns out. I was surprised to find I still remember which gown she liked the most; which she wore very little; which she bought while I clung to her hand quite some years ago; in which my father told her she looked beautiful, which I loved see her wear.

At the moment I'm sitting on my bed, digging into quite a large box branded 'Aristoria's personal'. There are some old novels she used to read by the fireplace on the evenings; a jewellery box; something that looks like an photo album and a few perfume bottles.

I take out the jewellery wooden box and put it on my lap. I open it and my eyes meet a very neat and coordinated collection of necklaces, pendants, bracelets, rings and brooches. Some are made of gold, others are silver and a few are made of bronze. I stare at the massive amount of jewels laid carefully on the red velveted bottom of the wooden box and one item catches my eye. It's a small black velvet box with a silver lining. I remember she told me my father had given her that box, when he proposed. I take it in my hands and open it carefully. Inside lays a heart shaped brooch, not made out of gold, or silver or bronze; no, it's made out of frozen sand.

I made that brooch for her birthday. I had just learnt how to charm the sand into an object; so I made it during the summer before my second year at Hogwarts. That was the last thing I gave her.

I close the little box and put it on my bedside table and smile to myself. I know it's a rather sad thing what I'm doing; but the fact that she treasured that crocked brooch enough to keep it safe in such a symbolic little box, makes me happy.

I turn back to the large box, I take out one of the perfumes and spray a little on my wrist. I let the smell of the alcohol fade away before I take a sniff. It smells like magnolias. I smile at the sweet essence; I gave her this perfume when I was ten. She had planted all the magnolias that occupy the front of the manor, so I thought she'd like it; the bottle barely has a few drops left.

I put down the perfume and take one large book in a dark, red leather cover. It's a photo album. I'm about to open it when there's a knock on my door.

"I'm not hungry, Tap!" I say loud enough for the house elf to hear me through the door...

Hang on. Tap has no idea what privacy means, she has always just apparate in my room; why hasn't she done that now?

I stand up, leaving the album on my bed and I walk over to the door. I open the wooden panel to find a pair of cold, hateful looking brown eyes.

"Uncle Draco sent me to bring you down to lunch." Thatcher Nott, my elder cousin smirks at me "He said I could force you if you refused; so if I were you, I wouldn't put any kind of resistance."

I stare at Theodore's and Daphne's son smirk again, and it takes all of myself control not to sneer at him and shut the door in his face.

"You couldn't take me." I assure him. I'm not being arrogant, I've seen him in a few duels; he did not inherit my uncle's duel skills as much as my aunt's stupidity.

The smirk erases off his face at my words. Still, I walk out of my bedroom; if my father has sent bloody Thatcher instead of Tap, it's because my presence is needed, which means some of the people he invited to tonight's Christmas Ball have arrived and he needs to look good in front of such crowd.

"Hey, what were all those boxes in your room?" Thatcher asks as we walk downstairs.

"Mind your own business, will you Thatch?" I smirk.

"Do not call me that!" he snaps at me and we keep walking downstairs in silence.

My cousin used to have a crush on Mischa Flint; she was the one who started calling him Thatch. When she decided to date Dorian Goyle, Thatcher made a decision of his own. He pealed himself from everything that reminded him of her; not only his nickname; but his best friend (who happened to be Dorian himself), the same tastes they shared, the same people they knew, absolutely everything that attached him to Mischa. All that made him quite a bitter guy to be around; but I've never have a good relationship with him, so whatever changes he made, really do not concern me.

"Oh, there you are." Daphne says as she smiles at me and motions me to sit next to her when my cousin and I enter the dinning room.

The ridiculously large table is filled with people; people I had wished not to have to see any time soon.

At the end sits my father, of course; Daphne sits at his right and Theodore at his left. Beside uncle Nott sits the entire Zabini family; yes, including the twins, and their younger sister, Laurie. Next to the seat I'm supposed to take, is the Flint family, and gladly I'm seating next to Misses Flint instead of Elle. Next to Mischa sits Dorian Goyle and his family. Between Laurie and his younger brother, Marlon, Thatcher takes his seat.

"How's everything going, Scorpius?" uncle Theodore asks while taking a sip of his drink.

"Good." I say and glance at my awaiting plate, so I don't have to look at anyone else.

"So, Draco, are the Bulstrodes joining us?" Daphne asks and so the chattering starts.

**.**

**OOOO  
.**

"Where are you going, mate?" I hear Dorian ask just when I was about to leave the room where I was forced to stay for at least half an hour, with all the _youngsters_ I, for the moment, completely hate.

"I have things to do, Goyle." I reply and feel his arm on my shoulders as he leads me away from my salvation and deeper into this nightmare.

Bloody hell... And to think that at this very moment I could be looking at my mother's old pictures or reading what she wrote so many years ago.

"Why so much hostility?" he asks the crowd of cold faces that occupy the room.

Elle and Charlotte sit one next to the other in the same couch as a confused looking Laurie. They look like murdering someone pretty soon. Leonard stands by the fireplace, not looking uncomfortable, but I'm sure this is the last place he'd like to be. Luke is sitting on a comfy chair further behind, glaring at the floor while his hand plays with one of the glass figurines on the glass table beside his chair. Mischa sits in another couch looking quite confused as well. Thatcher and Marlon are playing wizarding chess, completely uncaring of the cold atmosphere of the room.

"There's no point wondering about it, Dorian." I say, not bothering to act this time.

"I believe I told you what was going on." Charlotte suddenly says after a few seconds as she glares at me.

"Well I don't think my mate here acted that way." Dorian says, keeping his arm around my shoulders, making it more complicated for me to get to my room.

"Which way?" Mischa wonders in that soft voice of hers.

"Charlotte says Scorpius is not getting along with anyone nowadays."

"That's a soft way to put it." Charlotte mumbles as she looks away.

"Well, there must be a reason for that." Mischa says, giving me the benefit of the doubt. I'm sorry Mischa, but there's no way this is getting solved by just wondering the reason of it all.

"There sure is." Leonard says from the fireplace, making all eyes fall to him. He smirks at the reaction his words caused.

"What does that mean?" little Laurie wonders from the couch.

"Why don't you ask your brother." Leonard says, pointing at Luke with a nod.

"Luke?" Laurie calls out.

Lucas says nothing. He just keeps staring at the floor and playing with the figurine for a minute or so, before his dark blue eyes settle on my face. He stares at me for quite a while and I return the stare. If he thinks that glaring at me will make me run out of here, he couldn't be more wrong.

Then Luke stands up and starts walking my way; I try walking towards him as well, but Dorian's grip tightens, not letting me move.

"Luke?" Mischa is the one calling out to him this time. I do not turn my eyes from Luke's, but Mischa sounded rather worried of what might happen next.

"Are you sure of what you told me?" he asks coldly stopping two feet from me, still looking me in the eye.

"Of course I am." I reply, not looking away.

"So, you're choosing that scum over us?"

"Don't call her that." I say through writhed teeth as I feel my blood heat up and my hands close in fists.

"What am I hearing?" Dorian suddenly says sounding cheerful, completely uncoordinated to the situation he has just created "So this is about a girl?"

"Mind your own business, Dorian." It is Charlotte who speaks. She stands up and walks closer to Luke and I "What girl?"

"What do you care?" Leonard asks her.

"I just do."

"You shouldn't." Elle says.

"Shut up, Elle." Charlotte snaps at her supposedly best friend "What girl, Scorpius?"

"Mind your own business, Charlotte." I say, not really wanting to deal with her bitch mode. We're nothing, remember _Charlie_?

"Answer me." Luke intercepts Charlotte's soon to be tantrum.

"I don't owe you any kind of explanation." I sneer at Lucas.

At this, his forcefully collected mask falls apart and I can see the fury in his dark eyes, now narrow slits, as he glares at me.

"Yes, you bloody do!" he snaps and I can see from the corner of my eye how his shoulders tense up "You're letting 10 years of friendship go to waste!"

"Oh, no, I'm not." I smirk at him "_You_ are."

A deathly silence fills the room. No one moves. It feels like no one is actually breathing. Every single person in this room knows just how explosive Lucas Zabini is; they also know how furious I can get, how hurtful my words can be, and how madly I lose my mind when provoked to my limits.

"What's going on?" Laurie snaps the silence "Scorpius?"

This time, I do look away to stare at the tan-skinned ten year old. She watches as her brother and I glare at each other. I feel like saying something to comfort her as I see her big eyes water; but there's nothing I can say to make all this disappear.

I'm sorry Laurie; I truly am.

"Shut it, Laurie." Leonard suddenly sneers at his little sister, sounding almost disappointed not one punch has been thrown.

"Hey, there's no need to snap at her." Marlon says standing up from his chair, but he's held by Thatcher, who, for some reason, is staring at me in a less cold manner than he usually displays.

"What's going on here," Leonard says, not caring to listen to Marlon "is that dear Scorp is ditching his only friends for some-"

"Don't you dare." suddenly Elle snaps, gaining surprised looks from Charlotte, Leonard and I.

"What, are you taking his side now?" Leonard asks her smirking; looking like he had been waiting for a bigger explosion to happen from this all.

"I chose a side quite some time ago." Elle replies looking coldly at me "We all did, am I right?"

I stare at Elle's dark brown eyes and find myself surprised at their lack of disappointment or hate. She even looks slightly sorry this is how things turned out. Then I understand; what I told her in the library, she got it. And yes, she chose her side, but now she's letting me choose mine. No, I don't need her approval to love Rose, and I doubt she'd ever give in; but at least I know she's letting me go.

"I don't understand." Dorian suddenly says.

"You don't need to." I mumble and turn to leave the room.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Charlotte asks Elle and without a reply she turns back to me "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

I turn around to face Charlotte and everyone else once again.

"What, do I need your permission to walk around my own house now?" I ask coldly "Must I remind you this is _my_ territory? I do as I please and neither you nor your little gang can stop me."

I look from a glaring Charlotte to Elle's resigned face, to Leonard's bored looking one, to Luke.

Unlike Charlotte, Leonard and I, he did not look surprised at Elle's words. At this very second, he's just staring at me coldly. I cannot read his expression; I don't know if he feels the same way his girlfriend does; I don't know if he still resents me, but, truth be told, I don't even want to know.

"So this is it, huh?" he says when I turn my back to him again.

It takes me a second or two to make myself not think about the consequences the next words I'll say will have upon my friendships; my own feelings; my entire life.

"Yes, it is."

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I look at myself in the full length mirror I own. The Christmas Ball is about to begin in a few minutes; at 6 o'clock I believe.

I sigh deeply and try fixing my silver tie. Once done, I push my hair back in a failing effort to look more than half way decent.

Oh, who cares? I'm always told my hair looks great, and what's the point on trying to look better for a bunch of people I don't ever care for?

I keep staring at my reflection, then I notice a sheet of parchment lying forgotten on my desk. Earlier this evening, just after exiting the living room, I meant to write to Rose, but just like the last two weeks, nothing came to mind. I mean, I know what I want to say, but how do I say it?

'Weasley, I hate my father, and my friends, and everything really; come save me?' of course, that'd be very eloquent of me. I know she said she'd be there if I ever needed her; but there's a reason she hasn't written to me either. I don't know what that reason might be, but it's there. Maybe she's been too busy trying to find a cure for her dad; maybe she didn't mean what she said on the train; maybe she just doesn't think of me at all; maybe I'm the last person she misses.

Sighing again, like the complaining little girl I am, I turn around and walk over to my mother's boxes. I start piling them back up, pushing aside the ones I had already dug through. I turn to the album I didn't have the time to look at this morning because of Thatcher.

I really want to open it; I really do, but I'm almost scared to see the pictures I had seen so many times before when I was still too young to go to Hogwarts. I dread I might release a feeling I do not want to feel. I don't want to have a breakdown; it was horrible enough to see Rose's, I do not want to go through that again in my life.

I sit on my bed and glance at my wrist clock, completely ignoring the album sitting beside me. I ought to go downstairs in half an hour or so. Bloody hell, to think I have to pretend to be the perfect son and having to forcefully socialize with the people I dismissed from my life mere hours ago, has given me a headache.

I let myself fall back onto the bed. So much for the time I spent making my hair look presentable. Well, truth be told, I like it better as shaggy as it is than pushed back.

I start to feel sleepy, my eyes feeling heavy. I've been so focused on the twenty boxes laying on my bedroom floor that I've barely slept the past week and a half. I wish I could just skip the bloody Ball and let myself have a well deserved, very much need nap. Then...

CRACK!!

"I'll be down in five minutes, Tap."

"The Master wants to see young Malfoy in his study." the house elf mumbles in that high pitched voice of hers.

Reluctantly I sit up and stare at the elf. She just bows profoundly and cracks away before I can even thank her for letting me know the "Master's" request.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Come in."

I open the study wooden doors and walk in.

"Tap said you wanted to see me."

"Yes, I do." My father says from his desk as he purrs a little firewhisky in a glass. "Leonard was here a few minutes ago and he laid out a very interesting piece of information regarding you."

"Yeah, we had a little argument after lunch." I say, still standing in the middle of the room, I don't think this chat will last very long, so why sit down? "What is it to you?"

"Don't you talk to me like that, boy." he glares at me while he taps his wand to some parchments here and there "I truly couldn't care less about what it was such argument about."

"Then why-"

"Since when have you fancied the redhead?" he asks, putting his glass down and leaning back to his chair more comfortably.

Oh, so this is what it's all about. Perfect, since Leonard took care of that, all that's left to do is for my father to finally kick me out. I never thought it'd be this way, but hey, at least I'll have my reason to never come back.

"Since I first saw her." I say smirking the smirk I learnt from my father himself.

"Oh, you mean since I told you specifically not to associate yourself with that bloody family?" he asks mockingly, still I can sense the fury dripping from every word he said.

"A few seconds before that, in fact." I flash a new smirk and lift my brows in a faked innocent expression "Sorry, you were too late."

"Keep your smart-arse remarks to yourself, boy." he hisses "I forbid you to have any kind of contact with the girl." he then says.

I stare at him, my smirk erased.

What? No. He wasn't supposed to forbid me anything. He's supposed to kick me out. He's supposed to yell at the top of his lungs that he'd never been more ashamed of me. He's supposed to banish me from this house; he's supposed to disown me.

Does this mean he cares then? Does this mean he rather have me hating him and leaving me to my luck? Does this mean he... he loves me? Enough to look past Rose and let it go as long as I promise not to keep contact with her?

"You cannot forbid me a thing." I say trying to maintain my cool at the melting words that run through my head.

"I can as long as you live in this house." he says looking back at his parchments, acting like the discussion is over.

"Then I'm leaving." I mumble, trying to figure out why he's acting so differently from the way I always thought he would.

"Don't be ridiculous. You cannot leave." he says lifting his eyes back to me, then he smirks the smirk I actually have never been able to pull perfectly "There's a reason you didn't when you just turned seventeen. You can talk as big as you like, boy; but you'd never leave the comfort this house stands for or the life style I've provided you."

So this is why. I cannot believe I actually thought he loved me at all. I should have known this is the way he sees me. I'm just a little brat to him; one silly kid that 'talks big' but is just that, pure talk. He can't even consider the possibility of me being so unhappy with my life to actually leave this house; leave _him_.

"I'm such a fool."

"Tell me something I don't know." he says, not suspecting where my mind is at.

"You're a fool also." I smile to myself as my eyes meet they're aged reflection "See, I thought once you knew about her, you'd kick me out; but you didn't. I, for a second there, thought you loved me enough to not want me out of your house."

_'You'd never leave the comfort this house stands for or the life style I've provided you.'_

"But no, that's not it. In fact you think I stayed here for all this." I continue looking around the room with my arms open.

"If it's not that, then why did you?" he smirks at me once more.

I let my arms drop and wonder that myself.

Truth be told, I could have taken my mother's belongings a long time ago and hide them at Hogwarts until I was no longer attached legally to my father and truly leave then. I wouldn't have to come back ever again. Yet, I made those things my excuse to come back at least one more time. The reason for that is way more simple than one could have expected; this man, this spiteful man sitting in front of me, is my _father_. He is absolutely everything I've got left. I guess I, unconsciously, hoped for a better relationship with him. I could have done so many things to embarrass him, to make him furious; and even when I had decided to never listen to him again, I still behaved properly.

I guess there's only one way to put it...

"Because you're my father and I love you. Because, despite my better judgement, I always have." I say feeling like every word I'm saying has always been a truth I didn't want to admit to myself "I guess I'm a fool for that too."

Then I just turn around and head for the door. I can leave now; there's truly nothing attaching me to this place or this man.

"Where do you think you're going?" he suddenly asks.

"I don't know. But any place is better than here." I say turning to meet his troubled silver eyes one last time.

"You will not walk out on me, boy!" he shouts standing up "I have an incredibly important gathering downstairs; you will not leave!"

"You have two choices;" I say coldly, wishing he could feel how much I despise him at the moment "you don't try stopping me and I leave unnoticed not to embarrass you, or you force me to stay and I blow your reputation out the window on my way out."

He says nothing and I take advantage of such silence to turn around and leave the study.

I believe that's the best choice he's ever made.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

I walk out of the Manor from the kitchen exit. I make my way through the snow covered grass to the shed and take out my broom. I'm not flying anywhere; it'd be like suicide in winter, but if I want to keep my broom I have to take it now.

I start walking towards the exit, almost a mile from the Manor. I can't disapparate from here if I want to leave undetected. I know I don't owe my father anything, discretion included; but he let me leave, so I might as well keep my word and let him say I got sick and I will not be attending the Ball in order to rest the illness off.

I keep walking ahead, charming the snow into melting as I make my path, my broom in my right hand and my trunk in my left. I enchanted it to make it lighter and I also expanded its inside. I packed a lot more than the trunk in its original size could have taken. I'm taking enough clothes for the rest of the holidays; enough money to last at least a year with minimal expenses; my school supplies (just because I'm leaving the Manor, doesn't mean I'm leaving my actual home); and, of course, some of my mother's belongings. I packed the brooch, the photo album, her diary and some of her books.

I watch as the sky gets darker now that the sunset is a few seconds away from being over and a few snow flakes starting to fall. I sigh happily at my freedom.

I know that the words 'I left home' are usually something to feel sad about; but to me they only mean my life is finally mine. I'm free to do whatever I want. I'm free to pursue my dream openly; I'm free to love her.

As I walk, my mind wonders to Rose. I bet she's having a not so nice family dinner at the moment. Hopefully she can enjoy her holidays despite the circumstances. Maybe I'll go see her; although that might bring some problems. Maybe if I owl her first I can tell her to meet me at the Diagon Alley for lunch or something next week. That would be nice.

I finally reach the main gate and open it with a tap of my wand. I walk out of the place I have lived my entire life and turn my back to it. I look ahead not believing what my eyes meet.

Rose is standing at the other side of the frozen road looking straight at me as snow flakes gather on her fiery hair.

"I know I'm not welcome here." she says loudly, so I can hear her from the 20 feet I am "But you are the only person I can turn to."

Without a word, I look side ways of the road and walk to Rose. Once I'm barely three feet from her I can see her face. She's looking collected and calm, nowhere near having a meltdown; but not as happy as I feel to see her.

"What happened?"

"I screwed everything up." she says scolding the ground.

"It's Ok." I mumble leaving my belongings on the snow and putting my arms around her.

I can feel my heart beating harder at the proximity. I know this is not the first time her thin arms swing around my waist, but I can't help feeling like it's the first time she hugs me. I love this feeling though; she just seems to fit perfectly in my arms. Just like that time on the train, two weeks ago, I wish I didn't have to let go.

"Why are you carrying your trunk and your broom?" she suddenly asks, her voice muffled by my shoulder.

"Oh, I'm leaving." I say, letting my arms drop as she lets go of me.

"Why?" she looks at me in the eye.

"Because I can." I smile at her. She chuckles at my answer.

"Where are you going?"

"Dunno." I shrug. There's a short pause. "Wanna join me?"

I know she might have to get back home soon. I don't want to get my hopes up for nothing. But there's a reason she's here now. I know she might not want to come, but-

"Yeah." she smiles back at me.

I stare at her for a few seconds and see a genuine desire to run away as well. So I take hold of my trunk and broom once again, and, in a silent agreement, we start walking ahead; neither of us knowing where to go, but both of us knowing we are with whom we need to be.


	19. Something Did Change

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Series, any of its settings or characters. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Hello everyone! So sorry for taking two weeks to upload! I had found myself rather uninspired the past weeks. But I finally finished chapter 18! I have very little to say this time, since I won't give you the usual summary of the new chapter. This one is special. Though I must say, you'll probably hate me after this...**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed/reviews. To those who have alert my story, welcome and thank you very much for liking my story enough to subscribe to it! XD. AND special, VERY special thanks to SeraphimeRising for beta-ing the chapter! Love you C2!**

**Ok, so happy reading everyone and please don't kill me! :)**

**Chapter 18**

"**Something Did Change"**

**.**

_**Scorpius**_

**.**

"Are you staying here for the rest of the hols?"

"That's the plan."

Both, Rose and I look around the dark room. Despite the years, the Leaky Cauldron maintained its very characteristic, and slightly creepy, atmosphere.

"Oh, so you have a plan now?" Rose smiles, diverting her eyes to mine.

"I'm a quick thinker." I reply chuckling and putting my belongings at the bed's feet.

Rose takes a seat on the end of bed while I put the key down on the desk by the window.

"So?" she asks.

"So?" I shoot back, leaning on the dark wooden table and placing my hands on it.

"Why did you run from home?"

"You make it sound a lot more melodramatic than it actually is," I chuckle. "I'm of age. I can do whatever I want; as simple as that."

She stares at me with sceptical hazel eyes and smiles.

"Oh, so this is about independence only?"

"Yeah. I'm no longer a subordinate country," I smirk.

I watch as her eyes take off from my face and wander around the small room. They scan the single bed she's sitting on, the gigantic wardrobe against a very naked wall, the small succession of windows lighting up the room. I try doing the same, but I can't help wondering why she came by the Manor. I thought she was doing, if not great, fine at least.

"What's this?" she suddenly asks.

I watched her lean over to grab something from my luggage. Then she takes out a book that had been sticking out since I searched my travelling bag for money.

"It's a photo album," I sigh.

She looks back at me and I can see the hazel of her eyes slightly worried at my answer. I don't know if she has guessed whose album that truly is; I don't know if she knows how hesitant I feel about it; but I think she knows it isn't just a handful of photographs.

I turn to the windows, my back to Rose, and take a deep breath, the cold winter air filling my lungs and calming my senses a bit.

"Would you like me to put it back?" Rose asks, sounding determined about something.

I turn back to her at that question. I stare at her eyes and see something I had only seen in Luke's eyes a few years back. There, in all that hazel, lies _comprehension_.

Then I truly understand her question. She's not asking me if that album is something I want to keep closed; no, she's asking if I need her here to open it. For some unknown reason, I feel like I actually do need her.

I've always been an independent person. I've never needed anyone to tell me things were going to be alright. I've never needed anyone to rely on when the skies got darker. Even since she started seeing a friend in me and I did the same, I was more open to let her see she could trust me than letting her know I trusted her too. Despite trying, I haven't really let her in. Yes, I trust her more than I ever trusted any of my friends, but I think I hadn't let myself understand that trust is more than mumbling a little about how my day went.

"No." I say and make my way to sit on the bed next to her.

"Would you like to open it?" she asks softly as she hands me the album carefully.

"I'm not sure," I responded quietly, my hands roaming slowly over the leather cover.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, you know," she says, taking my hand in hers.

I turn my head to look at Rose. I stare into her hazel eyes for a minute before my heart can believe the words she said.

I look back at the album, take a deep breath and open the cover.

The first thing my eyes catch is the person my younger self shares the frame with.

There, on a cream couch sits my mother, holding a light blue book in her hands as the baby boy sitting on her lap plays with a strand of her long brown hair. She smiles at me as she looks down to her son every now and then. She moves her mouth very close to the baby's ear, making him look up to where the camera must have been the day that picture was taken. The baby's silver eyes stare cold for a second before he smiles at the photographer too, and I wonder if the person behind the magical object is my father.

"You look a lot like your mum," I hear Rose say, but I can't make myself stop staring at what must have been my life quite some years ago.

I just keep looking at the picture and find myself unable to see the similarities Rose seems to have.

"Do I?" I ask, my tone slightly bitter.

Slowly, I turn the page, meeting two people again in the next picture, but not the ones I would have preferred seeing.

A tall blonde man sits on the grass, with an equally blonde little boy on his lap. Unlike, the eternal cold expression I've always seen in that man's thin face for the past five years, he's smiling. But not only smiling, he really, truly seems _happy_. I watch as the little boy opens his mouth in silent squeals and laughs.

The similarities between them both I _can_ see. The hair, the eye colour, the pale skin, the hands, and despite having chubby cheeks, in a few years, the boy's face would look just like the man's.

I notice no words coming from Rose. She must have realized I don't look like my mother as much as she thought. I take hold of the corner of the page and I intend to turn it when a woman walks into the picture. She sits beside the man and hands some funny looking toy to my four year old self.

"Do you see it now?" she asks.

Then, I see it. Yes, the blonde hair, the silver eyes, the large hands the boy possesses are his father's; but the slightly downward shape of his eyes, the round cheeks, the long neck, the slightly bony knees, the somewhat pointy ears, the toothy smile, the curling corners of his mouth, the dandy nose; are those of his mother.

"I do."

I stare at the picture and feel a lump in my throat. I don't know why, but something is unsettling in this picture.

I know I had to have some of my mother's at least, but I never imagined there would be a lot more similarities between her and I, than the ones I share with my father. And for some reason I feel different now. I don't know how to put it in words, but knowing my smile is a reminiscence of hers, makes me happy. I feel that looking like her, in some uncommon, almost imaginary way, brings me closer to her.

The years pass, but you never forget them, the heart does not allow it. Yet, with every day they're absent, that hole they leave when they die, slowly fills out with a new routine, a new reality; a reality without them. No, the heart does not forget, but the brain doesn't have a great memory. In time, you can no longer remember how their voice was, the sound of their laugh. They slowly turn into nothing more than a memory, they don't seem real anymore.

Knowing that hidden behind my father's features, lay hers, makes her real again. That is certainly unsettling, but also incredibly comforting.

My battle with the world when it came to the words 'you're just like your father' have never felt look-wise to me. I know people uses those words to say my looks are just like his, but for some reason I always took it personally. Maybe I was desperate to hear someone tell me I'm just like my mother. Maybe because of that I've resented my father a lot more than I ever realized.

I still resent him for the way he's acted for the past years, but if someone told me right now how much alike we are, I think I wouldn't mind. I know my mother is more part of me than my father is. I still wish our relationship was different. Maybe it's too late for that, maybe it'll never be any better than it is. But if one day he says 'I'm sorry', I will take it and apologize myself. I know he must be a good person deep, _deep_ inside; I know my mother was, something must have rubbed off on him, right?

If not, at least I know it rubbed off on _me_, and that's what she wanted.

Then Rose puts her arms around my shoulders, making my chin rest on one of hers.

Neither of us speaks. I don't think words are needed.

I put my hands on her back and, despite it all, I smile.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"What about this one?"

"Oh, there I was nine and I had just lost my kitten."

"You had a kitten?"

"Yeah; not for long though, obviously."

It's been a couple of hours or so since I opened my mother's album. After 60 very overwhelming minutes, Rose and I came across rather embarrassing pictures. At the moment she's silently laughing at my pouting childish face.

I have to admit, must of the captured moments in these pictures, had been long forgotten, lost in my head throughout the years. I don't really know how to describe the feeling, but more than sadness or even happiness, a sense of _peace_ filled every part of me at the recognition every photograph brought; whether it was the fact that I had a kitten or just the colour my mother's library used to be. But what soothes me the most, it's that I'm not alone. I don't know why, but having someone here to comfort you when needed, especially at moments like this, makes the whole process a lot easier. And to be honest, I'm glad I could share this with Rose, because I don't really believe this would have been the same if it had been with anyone else.

I turn my eyes to her and watch as she keeps staring at the pictures. Her hazel eyes seem lost in thought, and I wonder if she's thinking about what I think she is.

I still don't know why she came by the Manor. She said she had '_screwed everything up'_, but what exactly is everything and how did she screw it?

"Why are you here, Rose?"

Rose looks back at me and slowly, very slowly, I see her expression cooling.

"Because you asked me to join you," she replies, her voice way colder than a minute ago.

"That's not what I meant."

She looks away from me and sighs stiffly. I know she needs to get something out of her chest; and I don't mind waiting. She'll tell me when she's ready.

"I found a treatment the healers were supposed to use, but never got the chance. I tried it and it didn't work," she says, after a minute or two.

"You told me you were prepared to face the consequences of such a situation."

"I didn't run away from pain," she replies annoyed at my assumption. "I yelled at my father. I made him uneasy and eventually his patience cracked. I practically forced my mother into sedating him," she says, her voice a bit calmer this time.

Then, she leans back, letting herself fall onto the mattress

"I ran from the mess I created." she ads, her hazel eyes are buried in the ceiling, and a frown has taken over her brows.

"Is there something else?" I ask and watch her close her eyes forcefully.

A minute passes in silence, then she sighs, apparently giving up and letting herself say out loud what she has never admitted before.

"All my life I've been told how much like my mother I am," she says, still with her eyes closed. "That I have her face, her brains, every bit of her personality. I used to be proud of that, but since my dad got sick, I can't help but damn the similarities between us." She opens her eyes, their hazel completely annoyance-free. In fact, I'd dare say they look slightly sad. "Now I can't read what I want or wear what I like. Literally, I can't do anything she wouldn't do, and I hate it."

"It's not her fault." That's all I can say. I'm not that good with words.

"I know, but I can't help feeling like she's turning me into this younger version of herself," she replies, sounding sorrowful at her feelings. "I know that's the only way of keeping my dad sane, but I still hate it."

I sigh at my not very eloquent way to comfort her. I know I should say something, and I want to, but I don't know what. Although this time is not out of panic or anything. I know how she feels and I can relate to the things she must be thinking, I just find it a little hard to give Rose an advice I have never been given myself. We pretty much are in the same boat now; maybe we always have been, but up until now we, or at least I, hadn't realized so.

Maybe she doesn't need words; maybe all she needs is this, just like myself, someone willing to listen and nod and smile when needed.

I close the album and put it back in my bag. Then, I take her hand and intertwine my fingers with hers for the second time in my life, as I, too, lay back on the mattress. I turn my head slightly in order to smile at her; but I find her eyes closed and I wonder what it is that crosses her mind at the moment.

Yes, she's opened up to me, but sometimes it's still hard to know what she's thinking. Although I know all I need is patience; she'll tell me eventually. I know she will.

"I'm a horrible daughter," she says after a few minutes, her voice too calm for such statement.

"If it helps, I'm a worse son."

She laughs quietly and I find myself smiling like a fool at the beautiful noise escaping her lips.

"My mother was right. I shouldn't have done what I did," she says, no signs of laughing anywhere anymore.

"What's done is done." I say wishing I could tell her there's a way to go back in time and stop it; but there are no longer time-turners in this world.

We keep quite for a while after that. I wish I could do something to make her forget what she's done and what awaits her back home. I wish I could make that frown disappear; I love her frowning face, it's adorable; but I don't like to know her feelings truly match her expression.

Then something comes to mind.

"Come on." I say, sitting up on the bed and standing up in a sudden movement, making Rose stand as well, for our hands still clasped together.

"What? Where?" she asks laughing at my childish outburst.

"Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, Muggle London, you name it and we'll go," I say, turning to look at her in the eye.

"But-"

"We can go wherever we want, Rose," I cut her off, smiling my ass off.

"But-" she tries, looking at me amused.

"Just because we're spending Christmas away from home, doesn't mean we don't get to enjoy the night, right?"

"Right, but-"

"No buts," I cut her off a third time. "Let's just forget how we got here and have a celebration of our own."

Her hazel eyes are buried in mine as they question me, and I can almost hear her considering my proposal.

"A celebration of our own?" she asks.

"Yes."

We stare at each other for a minute or so. I smile at the prospect of having fun. While everything is changing for the both of us, I just want for her to see what I see and smile along. Her eyes keep searching mine for a good reason to keep saying 'but'; gladly, she finds none.

"Alright then," she nods, smiling back at me.

**.**

_**Rose**_

**.**

Who would have thought Scorpius Malfoy is actually fun to be around? I never imagined today would turn out the way it has. I never imagined I could have such a great Christmas away from my family. I have to admit, I even doubted it could be possible; but I guess phrases like 'impossible is nothing' exist for a reason.

I watch the lights pass in front of me rapidly. Muggle buses are a lot slower than the Knight Bus, but I like travelling knowing my face won't end up against the floor at any given time.

"Where exactly are we going?" I ask the blonde bloke sitting beside me by the aisle.

"I can't tell you yet," he smiles, looking outside the window above my head.

"Is it in London?" I question.

"Sure," he smirks and turns his silver eyes to mine with a mischievous glint before looking ahead.

I look back to the window and wonder where Scorpius is taking me now. When he said we should have a celebration of our own I had expected only so much.

After practically dragging me out of his room, he took me to Diagon Alley. There were a lot more people than you would have expected to see on Christmas. I mean, to me this is a day to spend at home, having a family dinner and listening to Celestina Warbeck, for my grandmother's sake. I did not know people tended to celebrate the night out.

We haven't done anything extraordinary. We just went to a small pub, I didn't even know existed until tonight, and had a decent dinner and a few butterbeers. But for some reason, I had the time of my life. Just chatting with Scorpius was surprisingly easy; the words just flowed. I've never been one to maintain a silly, yet meaningful conversation with anyone before; not with Nick, not with James, not even with Al.

"We get off here," he says, making me lose my thread of thoughts suddenly.

We get off at a very lonely bus stop and I look around. There's nothing more than a couple of houses at the other side of the street, both looking abandoned and rather terrifying, and a mass of icy trees behind us.

"Uhm, can I know where are we now?"

"We're at London's south outskirts," Scorpius says, starting to walk towards the snow covered mass of trees next the pavement.

"Ok." I say following him at a slower pace "What are we doing here?"

"I have a confession to make. I didn't get you anything for Christmas, but I thought maybe you'd like going to The Dome," he says, waiting for me.

"The Dome?" I say sceptically.

"It's like a Wizarding Recreation Centre at a magically created gap between London, Surrey and Kent," he says, offering me his arm.

"How do you know about it?" I say hooking my arm with his expecting one.

"My mum used to bring me every Christmas." he says, and despite what happened earlier today, I can see him smile. "I had the best days of my life here, and I thought maybe that could be your gift."

"One of the best days of my life?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds nice."

We walk over the snowy grass for a few minutes in silence.

Despite the circumstances of me being here at this very moment, I can't help but feel glad about it all. I left a huge mess back home, and I know that I have to face it eventually, but I find myself unwilling to do so. No, I don't want to go home; I'm having a really great time now, with Scorpius, away from my family. I know that's not what should be crossing my mind, but what would you do in my place?

"Here we are," Scorpius suddenly says.

I turn my eyes from the ground to a small building in the middle of a snow covered meadow. It's an actual, very small, dome; it's pearly white, almost indistinguishable from the snow around it. It has no windows and just a very simple looking door.

"Come on." I feel Scorpius tugging at me to keep moving.

We walk a few steps towards the white, lovely lined structure and for some reason I feel incredibly happy; like all my worries stayed outside just when I stepped inside the small dome.

The inside is just as small as it seems from the outside, which I find rather weird; usually magical places are more than meets the eyes, but this doesn't seem to obey that statement. In the middle of the small room, there's a pearly white tube of fairly small dimensions. I watch as Scorpius, in three strides, is at it. He takes his wand out of his cloak and drops it in the tube. He then motions me to join him, so I walk over to him and take my wand out. Imitating the blonde bloke, I let it drop inside the tube. Then silver linings start spreading along the curve white wall writing 'Magic just happens' over and over, until the pearl white turns into pure silver. The silver shines brighter by the second, and after about half a minute later, it turns back to white. But the room is not the same as before. Three identical doors have appeared in the small dome, seeming to lead back outside, but I'm pretty sure they don't.

"Where would you like to go?"

"What options do I have?"

"The Outline, The Body and The Core."

I mean to tell him names don't really say much, but then the smooth surfaces of the doors all turn into glass and I can see what lies behind each one of them.

The door at my left, the one he called 'The Outline', looks like a big city, with skyscrapers and lights everywhere. There are restaurants, clubs and hotels with a handful of people walking from here to there, all looking so alive. I've never been to the States, but I'm guessing New York City looks just like this at night; except maybe for the oddly dressed people, the floating lights and the magic all around.

The next door, 'The Body', looks like a wide, infinite side walk, at the moment, full of people. Behind every single person there are bags following them from mid-air. Running throughout both sides of the long catwalk, there are an infinitely diverse amount of coffee houses, and stores after stores of absolutely everything you could imagine, from clothes, to shoes, to domestic appliances, to candies and odd objects; all magical looking.

The third door, displays absolutely nothing but emptiness. All I can see is falling snow, nothing more.

"Why is The Core empty?" I whisper. I'm not sure why, but the atmosphere just calls for soft speaking.

"Because it's unoccupied," Scorpius whispers behind me. "No one is in, therefore it displays nothing."

"So, if we were to go in, the scenery would change?"

"It would indeed." He says and I realize just how close he is; although, surprisingly, I don't mind.

"How?"

"Depends on who walks in."

For a moment, when I had just seen what was hidden behind the Outline's door, I thought that would be the one place I'd like to be; but I don't think I do anymore. It sure looks like loads of fun, but I'm too curious to know what the Core looks like when occupied.

But before I can take the knob in my hand, Scorpius opens the door for me. I look back at him and see him smile. He obviously guessed my choice.

"After you."

"Why, thank you," I reply and step into the room.

Once Scorpius closed the door behind him, the empty snowy room suddenly emanates this blinding light and a rushing wind whistles in my ears. Then it all goes silent and the lights go out, leaving us in the dark.

Then I can hear bells, very softly, very shy. The bells are suddenly accompanied by a piano, both instruments playing a soft tune. Then I can hear at least two violins playing along. As I'm able to hear more and more instruments, the soft tune becomes louder, clearer, enveloping the entire room; and then I see rings of soft light starting to shine above us, one after another, like an spiral, brighting the scenery.

I thought, that just like the other two parts of the Dome, this place would be infinite; but I got it wrong. The room is a larger replica of the small dome I first saw, and the floor starts descending like stairs, like an amphitheatre. There at the bottom is a stage, where a piano, a set of bells, violins, xylophones and loads of other instruments keep playing by themselves that beautiful tune. The entire place is white, but not pearly like the previous room, no, it's more like an icy white; it looks like it had been carved from a gigantic diamond.

"This is beautiful." I say taking a step forward.

"Merry Christmas."

I turn around and see Scorpius smiling at me; you know, that smile that makes his silver eyes shine in happiness.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks.

"There's no room," I chuckle, looking back at the stage fully occupied by charmed instruments.

"It will," he replies, taking my hand and leading me downstairs to where the music comes from. "The Core is forever changing. It presents itself hoping you'll change it." He explains as we reach the stage and stand at the middle, barely a feet or so from the piano "It gave us music; we've decided to dance, and so..."

The room then lights up again, but differently, as if someone had pointed a flash light to a diamond. Slowly the first three rows of stairs sink at the same level of the stage and the continuously playing instruments start to slide back towards the edges, and situate themselves in a ring, surrounding us.

"It'll let us."

I look back at Scorpius and he bows, offering me his hand. I take it and put my other hand on his shoulder as he places his carefully on my waist.

We start moving according to the music, which changed from a orchestral piece to a much slower, beautiful melody.

As we dance, I stare into his silver eyes and find myself unable to think of anything else but just how close we are, how warm his eyes suddenly look. He keeps smiling, and I can't help it but smile myself.

Then I notice the lights suddenly starting to dim. Both Scorpius and I, look up at this and we stare at the ceiling as the music turns even softer, and I dare say, slightly more romantic.

Then, from every spot of light, small leaves start to pop. I keep watching more and more leaves appear until they cover the entire ceiling. Then I can see red clusters popping out as well.

"What's that?" Scorpius asks as he keeps looking up.

"Mistletoe." I reply looking back at him.

"Mistletoe? As in 'the kissing tradition' mistletoe?"

"Yeah." I chuckle.

"Oh." He says and looks back down at me, looking slightly nervous. Wow, I never thought I'd see the day when Scorpius Malfoy would let me see him nervous. "We can always, you know, ignore it."

We keep dancing quietly and I can feel his shoulders tense. I try my hardest not to laugh at his obvious discomfort at the popping things above our heads.

There's no reason to get all nervous. So what if there is mistletoe all around us? It doesn't mean we have to kiss, or if we do, it doesn't have to mean anything; we're friends.

"If I kissed you, would the room change again?" I ask out of curiosity.

"I guess," he replies, looking back at me. "Do you want to make it change?"

"I'm rather curious about what happens when you please the room's requests." I reply honestly.

We stop swirling around and just move very slightly in the same place. He lets go of my hand and pushes a strand of hair from my face. I step closer to him, making the distance between us a lot narrower. Then he closes the gap completely placing his lips gently over mine.

If I told you that 'we're friends' little speech suddenly makes no sense, would you hold it against me?

Because in these few seconds that our lips are pressed together, my heart is starting to beat a lot faster than it had ever done before. A sudden shiver runs down my spine and I'm getting goose bumps all over.

Why did my heart just started beating so fast? Why is my pulse at my neck? Why am I so intensely aware of how close he is from me? Of how his chest barely touches mine? Of how gently his hand still holds my waist?

No, this is wrong, isn't it? What...? Why...? I don't- I don't understand.

Overwhelmed by all these things running in my head so suddenly, I pull away and mean to take a step back, but I feel this huge bubble in my chest that just won't let me.

Why do I feel this sudden fear to let go of him? Why out of the blue I feel the need to kiss him again, and really kiss him this time? Why can't I breathe properly? Why is my face feeling hot all of the sudden?

What does all this mean?

"Nothing changed." I then hear him say and feel him let go of me.

He starts walking towards the steps as I stay there in the middle of the stage completely dumbfounded with the changes my heart has seem to have made in a matter of seconds.

"Let's go somewhere else." I look up to where he stands, waiting for me to start moving. Why is he looking so sad all of the sudden? "I'm tired of dancing."

I stare at him and then he smiles; but his silver eyes don't follow suit. I try sorting all these thoughts messing with my head, but still confused, I just nod and walk over to the stairs.

We start making our way out of the Core in silence, and I can't help thinking that something _did_ change.

**.**

_**Scorpius**_

**.**

We sit on my bed, both of our backs against the headboard. I turn my head slightly and watch her eyes hazel looking outside the window completely lost who knows where.

Two hours have passed since we left the Dome and came back to the Leaky Cauldron. We kept quiet most of the time. Honestly, I don't know if I should say something or not. I'm not even sure how I am supposed to feel at the moment.

We kissed, very briefly, but we kissed nevertheless... and she pulled away.

I have no idea what the bloody hell I was expecting. Maybe I thought the Core would turn completely pink or something like that; just go through _any_ change to let me know that I should go for it. But absolutely nothing happened. The mistletoe stayed there, the lighting didn't change, the instruments kept playing the same bloody song.

Maybe I did get my hopes too high after all. Maybe I was too naïve, thinking that going there would magically make Rose see me as more than a friend. Hell, maybe I was expecting her to love me out of the blue.

I shouldn't have let my feelings overpower reason. The only relationship I have with Rose is mere friendship, I should have remembered that and not kissed her. Maybe it's time I understand we will never be more than the weird support system we are for each other.

Maybe it's time I give up.

"Rose?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you like me to take you home?" I ask, feeling like I'm stabbing myself right on the heart.

"What?" she asks, suddenly snapping out of whatever trance she was in. "No. I don't want to go home."

She then turns back to the windows. I sigh at the lack of emotion in her statement and keep wondering what it is that has her two galaxies away from this room.

"You can't avoid it forever."

Then she looks away from the windows and at her hands. She says nothing for a minute or so before she sighs as well.

"I know, I just..."

"What are you afraid of?"

She turns her hazel eyes at me and for some reason, something feels really, truly wrong.

"I don't know."

We stare at each other for a few more seconds before she looks away and gets off the bed. She takes her heels and puts them back on. She walks over to the desk, takes her cloak and pulls it on. I too get off the bed and put back my shoes and cloak. I take my wand from the side table and look up to the door where Rose is waiting for me.

I walk over to her and we get out of the room. We walk downstairs quietly, not to disturb anyone, to the Disapparation point by the pub.

As we walk, Rose takes my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze back lightly, reminding myself this is a friend turning to another. That's all this means, one supporting the other, nothing more. I have to keep in mind I shouldn't grow fond of this kind of physical contact, for this might never happen again.

I must let her go.


	20. Same Story, Different Ending

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Hello everyone! Again, so sorry to post soo late. This time I did not find myself uninspired, I got a job.**

**Anyway, I know no one complained about the last chapter, but I felt I disappointed you slightly, so I dug my brain and dragged the emotion out this time, and I think I came up with a nice make-up chapter for you guys. Hopefully you'll like it. This is the second to last chapter, so, yeah, the story is coming to its inevitable end. I'll try uploading as soon as I can, but no promises, I work full time until september.**

**I hope you have nice fuzzy feelings after this, thanks to _SeraphimeRising_ for beta-ing this one too, thanks to every single one of you who reviews, and finally, happy reading.**

**Chapter 19**

"**Same Story, Different Ending"**

**.**

_**Scorpius**_

**.**

_I watch Rose open the door to her grandparents' place from a couple of yards away. I feel so cold, although the snow all around isn't the one causing the feeling._

_This will probably be the last time I'll see Rose the way I do. I know there's still a half of term still to go, but I cannot keep on like this._

_It's very clear to me, we will never be more than friends. It doesn't matter how much I want her to love me, she probably never will._

_I kissed her for the first time tonight, hoping after that, there would be a lot more kisses to come. I don't really know what I was expecting. Like the idiot I've always been, I think I was waiting for Rose to magically fall in love with me after tonight. Maybe I'm just too naïve, thinking real life is the way muggle movies make it seem. Maybe I'm just a bloody moron._

_I watch her go inside the weird, crooked house without turning to wave._

_I guess this is it._

_I stare at the worn, wooden door for a few minutes, until the chilly winter morning beats me. I look up to the messy succession of windows and catch an open blind. There I see hazel eyes, but they do not belong to Rose. I stare at the brunette woman at the window as she stares back at me, and surprisingly, I don't feel hated._

_After about a minute, I turn my back to the place my beloved calls home, and walk away._

_I have to let her go. I don't want to live the rest of my days knowing the one person I ever loved, would never love me back. I cannot do that. I have to forget about her. And I know this is not the first time I've told myself so, but I have to. I have no other choice. This time I will forget about her, I will move on._

_I know there will be someone who will magically fall in love with me, eventually. What I fear is that I cannot promise to love them back, for my heart is taken._

_I keep walking through the winter morning. Snow surrounds me entirely and all I can see is white and a greyish sky – how appropriate._

_But then a blinding yellow light fills the space. I cannot see the snow or the skies anymore. All I see is yellow and orange._

"_Wake up, you git." I hear very near me._

I open my eyes only to shut them back up. Someone had opened the window's bloody blinds in their attempt to wake me up.

"I thought I had made myself clear," I hear the, now very familiar, voice say again. "Wake up."

Then I feel the sheets being pulled from under me, making me fall from the small bed to a very unforgiving hard floor.

I open one of my eyes and see a tall figure standing in front of me with his hands in his pocket and a rather impatient look on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like, moron? I'm taking you home," Thatcher says with his grave, cold voice.

I stay laying on the floor as I watch him scold at me. I try clearing my head from the memory that's been haunting my sleep for six nights now.

"Did my father send you?" I ask, my voice hoarse with persistent sleepiness.

"If you know the answer, why do you even ask?" Thatcher says as he walks rather slowly around the room, a disgusted expression dressing his forever cold face. "He has appearances to keep up."

I guess I was foolish enough to actually believe that if my father hadn't sent anyone by yesterday, it meant he was letting me go. I couldn't have been more wrong, could I?

"Well, then why didn't _he_ come by?" I ask sarcastically as I stand up and pick the sheets off the floor.

"He's busy."

"Of course he is," I mumble, annoyed as I walk over to my luggage. I take a shirt out and start putting it on as I continued, "I'm not going back, Thatcher."

"I figured," he says casually, making me turn around at his words.

"That's it?" I ask dumbfounded. "No threats? No back-ups?"

"Why even bother?" Thatcher says as his dark brown eyes roam around the room in a snobbish manner. "You said you're not coming back to the Manor, and I can't make you."

I stand there at the bed's end, with my shirt still half-way on, as I stare at the bloke.

"Who the bloody hell are you and what have you done to my cousin?"

"Very funny," he replies, giving me a cynical smile.

Then, he takes out his wand and starts flicking it from here to there, making my belongings pack themselves.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you pack," he states the obvious; although 'helping' is certainly not what he's doing.

"Didn't we just agree I wasn't going back to the Manor?" I'm slightly confused here.

"We did," he replies, still making my scattered belongings obey his packing demands.

"Then-"

"You're staying at my flat," he cuts me off.

I stare at Thatcher for a minute or so, before my brain can truly understand what he's saying.

"Why?" I ask, not sure if I should question his offer or not.

"Because it's, by far, better than this place." he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'll just tell your father I couldn't find you."

"Why would you do that?" I ask him a few seconds later.

"Because I know how it feels to have absolutely no one to count on. And despite my reputation, I _do_ have a heart," he replies as he stops flicking his wand and turns to look me in the eye. "You're my cousin, so I'm not leaving you on your own."

We stare at each other for a little while. I don't really know what to say. I've never liked Thatcher. All my life he's rubbed it in my face the many things he was supposed to be better at than me. Also, he has always sided with my father. If my father told him 'make sure he behaves', Thatcher would literally lock me up in some small room if I dared disobey him. He would always use me as a practice bag for duels when I was smaller. He would make fun of me, saying I looked like a girl. He would always tell me horrible stories about Drumstrang, and would say I could never survive a week in his school, that I was too weak. He used to say I'd never be a good wizard. He would tell me over and over again that I'd never be _anyone_; that if I ever did accomplish something, it would be only because of my surname.

But now, he's the only one lending me a hand. Now, that I'm completely alone, living in a cheap hotel, eating more candy than actual food, barely sleeping; he's the one who is here.

I believe that for the first time in my life, I actually see in Thatcher a relative.

"Thatcher, I-"

"Get dressed, Malfoy," he cuts me off once more as he breaks eye contact and heads for the door. "I'll be in the pub."

**.**

_**Rose**_

**.**

"Would you like to play chess, Ron?"

I watch as Hugo tries to get dad out of his room, but he just glares at Hugo in response. My brother, used to his reaction already, just steps back and closes the small room's door without another word.

"Nothing," Hugo says sounding rather frustrated, before he starts walking downstairs.

I don't move. I just keep staring at the wooden panel that separates me from my father.

"Rosie? Lunch must be ready," I hear Hugo from the landing.

I don't say anything; I just follow my brother downstairs, to the kitchen, where my mum and Grandma Molly are waving their wands, getting all the plates out while Grandpa Arthur sets the table. Hugo walks over to his seat, but I don't bother following this time. I walk across the kitchen to the back door very well aware of my family's eyes settled on my back. I grab my cloak and scarf and go outside.

Once at the back yard, I walk towards the swing. I sit, not even shaking the snow off the timber seat.

Today is the last day of the year, and I cannot help but resent the way I've felt the past few days; for this is not the way I wanted to welcome a brand new beginning.

It's been seven days since I caused my dad to melt down, and it's been pretty difficult to make him trust anyone again. Usually it would take a few goblets of some weird looking potion only my mother seems to be able to brew, and twenty-four hours of sleep to make him snap out of it. But not this time. Healer Morgan said he's acting this way because the shock was a lot bigger than any other.

I've tried not to blame myself. My mother has tried to assure me that it will all be better if I give it time. Hugo insists he would have done the same thing if he had been in my place, so I shouldn't feel guilty. But I still can't let it go. I know I made a mistake, I know I messed up big time.

It's hard to mumble a word without feeling the need to scream. I have slept about seven hours total in the past four days. I can't even look at food without feeling nauseated. All I can do is think about how horrible my life is at the moment, and that I am the only one to blame for that.

I know I have to overcome this isolation, and I know I need to speak up eventually; but the one person I could be able to talk to about this, is the one wizard, aside from my dad, that won't let my eyes stay closed for more than a couple of hours.

It's been a week, an entire week, since my friend and I locked lips, and I can't get these feelings that fill me since then out of my head.

It was a bad idea to propose the kiss in the first place. I have no idea why the bloody hell I had to be so stupidly curious about the flipping room. So what if it changes when you do what it wants you to! I should have thought things through! I should have thought about the consequences that brief kiss would bring! But of course, being who I am, I never consider bloody feelings! I thought, I truly, honestly thought, one small kiss would be harmless; we were friends, that wouldn't change. But my heart begged to differ. It had to bloody feel something it shouldn't have!

I tried convincing myself the room was the one to blame, but no magic can change the heart's opinions. You can fool the mind, you can control the body, you can mess with the senses, but you cannot change the heart's beats.

I told myself a million times (and I'm not exaggerating) that the room had made me believe I was feeling differently all of the sudden. But the hours passed, the days leaked from my hands, a week escaped, and these feelings didn't go away.

I have to admit, I try keeping my eyes open as much as I can, because every time I blink, for those small fractions of a second, I can feel his hand on my waist, his breath mixing with mine, his soft lips upon mine, and my heart aches.

I've never felt this way before.

Maybe I feel this sudden attraction towards him because we have never been physically close in the past, not like that anyway. Maybe I've just spent too much time boyfriend-less, although I doubt that is a valid reason; I'm too independent and boys sometimes annoy me. He doesn't though. Maybe I… Maybe I _like_ him. I've never had someone I could trust that isn't related to me, so I guess it's normal for me to like him the way I seem to, right?

Still, there's something else bothering me… well, not exactly bothering, but it does swirl around my mind unsettlingly.

Let's suppose I like him more than a friend… does he like me?

I don't have a low self esteem, alright people? But he didn't look that enthusiastic about the kiss. In fact the way he said 'nothing changed' was slightly depressing. I tried paying the comment no attention, but when he offered to bring me home, I felt rather disappointed.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't planning on sleeping with him, but maybe I didn't want to be too far from him just yet. I mean, I know it sounds rather scandalous, but what if I had stayed the night? Would he have made a move? Would I want him to make a move? Would I have said something? Would he? What would have happened?

Him taking me home meant he didn't want me to stay? Right?

If he didn't, it still wouldn't have made any sense. He did sound depressed, but I don't know exactly what made him employ that tone of voice. I don't want to sound egotistic, or self-centred, but he looked rather sad as well when he was walking me downhill to the Burrow.

Maybe he was having trouble maintaining his thoughts at a less overwhelming speed, just like I still am. But then again he didn't seem to feel as unsettled as I know I looked.

"Bloody hell." I mumble out loud at my swirling thoughts.

"Better to swear than keep quiet, I guess."

I turn my head to look behind me and find a pair of emerald eyes smiling sympathetically at me. I say nothing. I just turn back and wait for Al to sit beside me, like he always does.

"Auntie Mione is worried you might faint from lack of nutrients," he says. I don't dare looking back, but I can feel his eyes on my face. "Come on, Rosie."

He takes my hand in order to make me stand up, but I don't move.

"You cannot fix everything and everyone, Rose, no matter how much you want to," he sighs after a minute, sitting back down. "I know it's sad to let go, but we have to."

I know Al is right, and I know letting go is not the same thing as giving up. Maybe I should just accept the fact that my dad's state isn't going to change.

No, I cannot fix everything just trying a theory that was never proven to work. Maybe I have to let things be and look at the good side of my supposedly horrible life.

No, my dad cannot recognize me. No, he doesn't who we all really are. No, he doesn't know 37 years have passed him by and that he has children now. But he's still here, _alive_.

I can still talk to him. I can still look into his ocean coloured eyes as much as I want. I can still see him smile. I can still hug him if I feel like it. So what if he thinks I'm someone I'm not? He loves me, he always has, whether he thinks I'm my mother or not. You cannot change the heart's beats, right? He will always love me, even when he can't see anyone in me. I will still occupy a portion of his heart; just as I know Hugo and my mum and everyone else does. There's a reason he cares about these people who claim to be his long-lost cousins. He may not understand why he loves them, but he does, and that cannot change.

So maybe my life isn't as bad as I, myself, paint it to be. I still get to spend a little time with my father. Maybe I don't and won't ever enjoy the kind of relationship I should have with Ronald Weasley, but we still have one. I know right now he's still confused, but I choose to believe what my mum said and give it some time.

Because I don't need to be lied to, I don't need anyone to tell me every thing's going to be alright; not anymore.

I finally meet my cousin's gaze and stand up. He, also, gets to his feet, and we walk back to the house, holding hands, just like when we were five.

Today is the last day of the year. Today, at midnight, a new beginning rises. Today I choose to be a positive person. Today I choose to _believe_ every thing will be just fine. Today I choose to start a new year looking at the bright side of life, even if it's not that bright after all.

**.**

_**Scorpius**_

**.**

"You'll be staying at the guest's room; third door to the left, down the second hall." Thatcher says as we walk into his 'discrete' two story flat. "I have things to do."

"Thatcher?"

"Yeah?" he replies pulling out with wand once again.

"Thanks."

My cousin smirks at me, before turning around.

"If I were you, I wouldn't thank me just yet," he says and Disapparates.

I stare at the spot where Thatcher vanished for a couple of seconds.

I haven't got a clue what he meant by that, and I'm not sure I even want to know. Maybe he's planing on making a slave out of me as payment for staying with him. Maybe he has horrible things planned out for me in order to make me run back to the Manor...

Or maybe I'm just being paranoid.

I shake these thoughts out of my head and walk to the guest's room, my luggage following me close behind. I get to the door and open it.

The room is fairly humble. There's a large bed in the middle of the room, against the back wall. A desk occupies the east wall and a wardrobe the west. Against the south wall there's a couch... in which sits the very last person I expected to see any time soon.

"What are you doing here?" I ask the tanned wizard as his dark blue eyes settle upon me now that he's realized I entered the room.

"I'm not sure," Luke replies, looking me right in the eye.

"Do you need something?" I ask annoyed. I do not feel like having an argument with him at the moment. It's not like I have anything better to do, but I would rather sit around doing absolutely nothing than having to listen to Luke tell me I'm an idiot.

"I do, in fact," he says, all the while his voice sounds slightly cold, it is not as indifferent as it was the last time we spoke though. In fact, I dare say he sounds rather calm.

"Well, there's no need to ask. I'm done." I know what he wants.

"What?" He asks looking confused.

"She doesn't want me," I reply bitterly as I wave my wand slightly, making my belongings land smoothly over the desk. "I'm letting her go."

I keep staring at him, and he keeps staring at me; but unlike the last time our gazes met, he isn't glaring at me. He, genuinely, looks like he had been told the sky is actually green and the grass blue. We keep quiet for a few more seconds. I hope for him to just leave me in peace at least for today. Tomorrow a new year comes. Our friendship doesn't seem to be able to be repaired, so would it be too much to ask for him to start making my life miserable tomorrow and leave me to live this one last day peacefully?

"Did you hit your head recently?" I suddenly hear. His question catching me off guard.

"What?"

"Since when do you quit?" He asks standing up.

I stare at him for a couple of seconds, not being able to understand the meaning of his words.

"Since when do you care?" I snap at him. "Weren't you the one who wanted me to forget her in the first place?"

"Yeah, but that was before," he snaps back at me.

"Before?" Am I really hearing what I think I'm hearing, or did I just go mad?

"Listen, I'm sorry I reacted the way I did," he then says, this time breaking the eye contact and diverting his eyes to the carpeted floor "I shouldn't have made you choose."

Oh, no. No, no, no, no! He does not have the right to feel _sorry_ after all the things he said to me, throwing away ten years of friendship, about choosing Rose over him and calling her names! How dare he! I practically resigned myself to a life without my best mate and now he decides to just be _sorry_?!

"After every single thing you said, do you honestly think a bloody sorry is enough?" I ask him in a low, cold voice, mad beyond words.

"I'm not Leo," he says after a couple of seconds, his eyes meeting mine again.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

I know he's not his brother! And I couldn't care less! I know Leonard is the bloody worst between the three of us! But if he honestly thinks he has done nothing to me when compared to Leonard, he's wrong! I rather relive every single horrible situation Leonard has gotten me into, than listen to Lucas tell me our friendship is completely over.

My former friend kept staring at me with those dark, cold eyes of his, and for a second something felt different, but so familiar at the same time.

"Leonard has resented you all these years, not because I chose your side, but because you didn't choose his," he says, his eyes still holding that odd look I cannot relate to in our current situation. I'm not sure why something that happened three years ago has anything to do with us now, but I do want to know. "He lost his best friend because he was selfish and ungrateful; but I'm not." Oh. "I promised myself I'd be a better person, and I refuse to be the same as Leonard. I don't want to hate you, I don't want a ten-year-old friendship to come to an end just because you happen to love someone I cannot tolerate. So no, I don't believe sorry is good enough; but the reason behind it should be."

I keep staring at Lucas, not feeling like ripping his head off anymore.

Have you ever fought with a friend so badly, it was never the same, no matter how many 'I'm sorry's' were exchanged?

I haven't, because Leo and I never apologized to each other.

Have you ever regretted never really forgiving your friend?

I refuse to.

I believe Lucas is that one friend whom I feel has let me down the most. But what do I gain resenting him? Nothing. What do I lose? A friend, a brother, a hand that won't let go, a couple of eyes guarding my back. So, what if Luke said the wrong things? So what if he messed up really bad? So what if if I'm sorry is not good enough?

I don't think you understand the extent of Lucas' stubbornness goes. I don't think I've ever heard him talk like this. You see, he's the kind of person who tends to hold grudges, he's the one who accepts apologies, but very rarely gives them. He's that bloke who is a mean winner and a sore loser. He's the kind of person who takes certain things a lot more seriously than he ought to. And he also is the kind of person that prefers be seen as an iceberg than admitting he has a heart. The kind of bloke that would write an anonymous 'get well' letter for someone he barely knows, just to cheer them up. The bloke who doesn't get seen smiling very often, because he likes smiling by himself at the small joys of life.

He's the one bloke whose 'I'm sorry's' truly mean something.

"I'm starving. Let's go get something to eat," I say heading for the bedroom door. I turn my face back to Luke and watch his face go from deadly seriousness, to the more relaxed expression that tends to dictate his features.

It's alright, mate. It's alright.

**.**

**Rose**

**.**

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in," I hear dad say from the other side of the door.

"Hey," I say once I step in the room. "Would you like to have dinner here or down by the kitchen?"

"I'm not hungry," Dad mumbles as he watches the snow slowly starting to fall outside the window.

"Alright then," I sigh and start to walk out of the room.

"Mione?" I hear behind me. "I love you, did you know?"

I turn around to face my father and find him looking at me. He smiles, and even though his eyes haven't showed true happiness since he got sick, I can almost see that genuine twinkle they used to have.

"Of course I did," I smile back at him.

"That's good to know," he says looking back at the windows, still smiling. "Sometimes I feel like I don't say it enough." No, he truly doesn't, but I've never minded. We are more alike than people think. I might look like my mum, but the way I hide how I truly feel is just like my dad's. "You should always tell the people you care about how much they mean to you, you know, Mione?"

"Yes, yes I should," I say looking down at my hands. "Ron?"

"Yeah?"

I look back at him to see his eyes staring at me as he smiles, probably imagining what I'm going to say anyway.

"You mean the world to me, and I want you to be happy." I tell him wholeheartedly, before I say almost inaudibly: "That's why I'm letting you go."

"What...?" he asks, looking confused.

"I love you too."

He smiles again, and this time I can see his eyes blazing blue again. I'm not sure how to explain it, but for some reason, I feel optimistic. In some rare way, letting go is not as painful as I had thought all along. He's happy; even being lied to, he's happy. So maybe being Mione is not that bad. Maybe I don't really have to pretend to be my mother, I just have to get used to the nickname. Because I know, I'm not sure how, but I know that he loves me the way he ought to. His brain is the one sick, not his heart. That beating organ knows I'm his daughter; and that's enough.

"You sure you don't want to eat?"

"I'm sure."

I nod at my dad and walk outside the room after mumbling a 'I'll come by later'. I make my way downstairs to the kitchen. I smile to myself at all the things that suddenly seem to be getting better just in time to welcome a new year. It'll be a lot easier now. This time around I can be in peace with who I am, and who surrounds me.

"What are you doing here?" I suddenly hear my mother from the living room as I step down the last flight of stairs.

"I need to have a word with your daughter," a cold, drawling male voice says.

I sit at the last step, my curiosity too perked up to be ignored.

"What for?" Mum asks. I don't think I've ever heard her talk this way, with such resentment.

There's silence. Who is my mum talking to? And why does he need to have a word with _me_?

"My son, in a pathetic attempt to make a point, has left the Manor a few days ago and I'm in a rush to get him back," oh... "My nephew was supposed to get him, but the brat seems to be sneaky."

After hearing this, I would be a complete idiot if I didn't guess whose voice that is, wouldn't I?

"What does that have anything to do with my daughter?" My mum then asks and I can't help noticing her voice is no longer full of resentment, but _menacing_.

"I believe she might be able to persuade him into coming back." Draco Malfoy continued in that unsettling cold voice of his.

"What makes you think she can?" Ok, I'm actually scared of my mum's tone now. "He must have a good reason for running away from home."

A new pause springs to life and I take the opportunity to peek into the room from the staircase.

There, standing in front of a vivid, flickering fireplace stands that tall, elegant framed man I remember seeing in a picture not too long ago. But unlike the happy expression I saw, his face is cold and collected, his eyes look unforgiving.

"My son has absolutely _nothing_ to run from," he says in a low, distinctively mad, tone of voice.

"Are you sure about that?"

A few seconds pass and I can see Mr. Malfoy's mask staring to crumble.

"I have given him all the pleasures money can buy. I have given him a life of luxury. I have denied him nothing," he says, and I see his hands starting to shake from anger. "So there's no bloody thing he can be unsatisfied with!"

"When I first saw your son, I was utterly convinced he was just like you, with his cold face and steely eyes. But a few months ago, I changed my mind," mum says after a few seconds. "You see, Rosie told me Scorpius was in fact a good person. She said that he was nothing like you, and I trust her judgement. On Christmas Eve, I must admit, was when I truly believed her words," she pauses and in those small fractions of a second I suddenly feel my heart shrink. _She trusts my judgement_. "She, too, ran from home, her reasons I ignore; all I know is that she was back safe and sound at dawn. And I believe I owe your son my gratitude for bringing her back," mum's back is all I see of her, but I can almost guarantee she's smiling softly. "Despite the life he's had, Scorpius is a remarkable young man. He's far from the kind of person you are, Draco."

I turn my eyes to Mr. Malfoy not so cold face anymore. I can see cracks, and boiling anger dripping from them.

"What's your point, Weasley?" he hisses.

"Don't you think luxury, and money mean nothing to him?" Mum asks after a short pause. "Have you considered he may have ran away from _you_?"

Then, Draco Malfoy's anger seems to start dissipating slowly to be replaced by utter confusion.

"And why would he run from his own father?" he asks, his eyes going slightly wider, his tone remarkably dead of emotion.

"What father?" Mum then asks mercilessly. "He lost both of his parents five years ago."

At those words I cannot help but feel my heart ache again of a pain that is not my own. Unable to make myself watch any longer, I hide behind the wall separating the stairs from the living room.

There's a longer pause this time, not another words is said. Then I see my mum walking through the kitchen door without noticing me sitting at the steps. I guess the discussion left her a little shaken up as well.

I'm not sure how to feel at the moment. I don't know how Mr. Malfoy reacted. I don't know what really motivated my mother to say all those things. I don't know if Scorpius' father will take my mum's words seriously. I don't know if she was being truly honest about the way she sees Scorpius now or if she truly trusts me that much.

All I know is that she's right when she exposed the real damage here.

I don't know how I truly feel towards Scorpius. I don't know what happened at that bloody dome. It doesn't really matter anyway, not now at least.

Because after hearing all I just heard, I can't help but feel my heart break for Scorpius.

For the past year I've been feeling bad for myself, damning my own life and the way it's turned out. But I just realized that there's people out there that have it worse than I do. At least I have a family. At least I have people who care about me.

Scorp lost his mum, his dad, he has no siblings, he has no friends anymore... So, who cares about him then?

I do.

After making the easiest decision I've ever had to make, I stand up from the steps and hurry into the living room. I take a piece of parchment that had been lying around, a quill and an ink bottle.

_I'm bringing a guest for dinner. Will be back soon,_

_Rosie_

I stare at my note and remember what my dad told me earlier this evening. I dip the quill back in the ink and write:

_P.S: I love you, mum._

Then I charm the letter into pasting itself to the glass counter, (she'll see it there) and walk outside the house.

**.**

**OOO**

**.**

I let my wand fall down the pearly white tube and watch as the room turns silver. I take a look at the third door once it appears in front of me, and thank Merlin all I can see is snow. I take hold of the knob and walk in.

Everything goes dark as the same sudden wind shakes my hair and whistles in my ears. Then all lights come back, but unlike the last time I was here, the are no tiny spots of light drawing a spiral on the ceiling. This time, the lighting a lot more sporadic, displaying huge spots of light placed randomly all over the curved ceiling. The room again looks like it had been carved from a diamond, but it doesn't look like an amphitheatre. Now it looks more like a cave, pieces of sparkly and smooth quartz sticking out in different heights, all angled to point the centre of the room. There right on the middle, is what looks like a crystal rose a hundred times bigger than the flower, floating above the mirror-like floor.

A rose, how appropriate.

I walk over to centre of the room, feeling like the Core is telling me, I need to go there. I reach the Rose and wait.

I'm not sure what exactly I'm waiting for, or what I ought to expect. I keep waiting, as my eyes scan the room. It looks rather cold and uninviting to a crowd. It looks like the kind of place you go when you truly want to have a moment to yourself. That makes me wonder, why the room took such form. I don't need time to myself, I need to find Scorpius.

I went to the Leaky Cauldron earlier this evening, but was told Scorpius checked out that morning. I have to admit, I panicked at first, unable to think of where he could have possibly gone. He didn't go back to his house, because then, his father wouldn't have come by The Burrow. Maybe he made up with a friend and was offered a nicer place to sleep.

Still, after convincing myself he was safe at someone's house, I couldn't just go home. I looked absolutely everywhere for that silvery, blonde head. I must have walked down and up Diagon Alley at least twice, before I gave that option up. I actually Apparated to Hogsmeade in a miserable attempt to find him. I'm pretty sure he wasn't there, but it didn't hurt to try anyway.

I Disapparated back to the Leaky Cauldron and ventured into muggle London. I know Scorpius isn't a muggle hater, but I doubt he would have chosen muggle London to disappear to. Still, I looked everywhere I thought a lost wizard could find any kind of refuge from the staring eyes of the non-magical curious crowd.

He was nowhere to be found.

So the only place I had yet to search was the Dome. This wonderfully messed up place that just _had_ to confuse the beating muscle my ribs encase.

I start pacing around the crystal rose, still waiting for I-don't-know-what to happen.

If this was any other day, under different circumstances, I honestly doubt I would be looking for Scorpius after finding out he wasn't where I assumed him to be.

For some reason, I feel this need to see him. I have no idea what to say or how to express the thoughts that have disturbed my mind for the entire week, but maybe looking him in the eye could help. I'm not sure how I'm convinced of such theory, because truly thought through, it really makes no sense at all.

I keep pacing, wondering if something will happen. Hold on... what am I actually waiting for?

What am I expecting? Why am I here when it's pretty certain Scorpius is not in this room? If I'm so anxious to find him, why am I not looking anymore? And why do I need to find him anyway? What is it that I need to say? What am I expecting him to say?

What do I want?

Just when I ask myself this, the crystal rose's petals start to fall down, shattering mutely into a million pieces, just as tiny as glitter. I stare at the dying rose as the petals fall one after another, slowly leaving the bud floating all by itself. Unlike, the petals, the rose's bud isn't a crystal, it's more like a mirror. I step closer, expecting to see my pathetic reflection on it. But I do not see hazel eyes, or red hair or pink cheeks. I do not see a bottom nose, or freckles, or slightly plump lips.

I see a set of lips curving up slightly at the corners. I see a dandy nose and freckles-free skin. I see platinum blonde hair and silver eyes.

I step closer not believing what my eyes see. Then his lips part and he mouths the three words I never expected to be told.

'I love you'.

**.**

**Scorpius**

**.**

"Let me see if I got it right. She suddenly came by the Manor because she didn't feel like being at home."

"She argued with her-"

"So you took her to the Dome and kissed her, but the Core didn't change."

"It did grow mistletoe, but it stayed the same way when it truly matt-"

"And then you took her back home?"

"Yeah, I didn't really-"

"Because she clearly doesn't like you more than a friend and never will?"

I sigh. What's the point in saying anything else now, if Luke keeps on cutting me off?

We're currently at the Outline. We had lunch and spent the rest of the evening walking around. I told Luke absolutely everything that happened on Christmas Eve at the Leaky Cauldron and at the Core. I told him how I feel about Rose and how I think that just trying being her friend is the best way to go.

It was a bit overwhelming to say all the things I hadn't told anyone out loud. Although I think it was a lot harder for Luke to hear all the things I hadn't bother to tell him before.

When my mum died, Leo and him where there to support me unconditionally, but I don't think I had realized it. I never told them anything. I didn't cry in front of them. I kept it all to myself. And I guess it's got to be hard for Luke to swallow knowing there were some things I, wasn't precisely hiding from him, but didn't say anyway.

I look up from my cup of tea to the tanned bloke sitting across from me. I wonder what he is thinking. He hasn't spoken much. I'm not sure what I want him to say, but I can almost guarantee he'll support my decision. The reason for it may be two-fold: one, he'll think it's better for me and my broken heart to not go any further than the friendship state; or two, he will just agree with me because he doesn't like Rose.

"Okay," Luke says, looking back at me with a rather determined expression, and oddly, slightly angry. "How on Earth have you had more girlfriends than I have when you're so bloody clueless in the girls' department?"

"Why, thank you very much for the compliment, but how am I clueless?" I finally say, after staring at Luke for a couple of seconds, confused about such question.

"You didn't say anything!" He replies like it was the most obvious thing on Earth "You don't take a girl to the most sickeningly romantic place in England and say absolutely nothing!"

"What?" I'm slightly confused here.

"You should have told her you love her."

Okay, I didn't see that one coming.

"She bloody pulled away from me!" I snap at him too. "I don't know what rules do you follow, mate, but in my book, if a girl breaks the kiss, she's just not into you."

Luke sighs heavily and I'm starting to suspect he might be getting rather frustrated at me.

"That's your problem, Scorpius, you live by the book."

"So, you say I think things through way too much?" I ask him mockingly.

"Indeed, I do." Please! Me, think too much? Me? Honestly?

…

Ok, maybe

…

Fine! I do! Sue me!

"Still, if I had said something, it would have been the most awkward thing I'd ever faced." I reply after scolding myself for... I don't know, being readable perhaps?

"So?"

"So?" _He_ dares 'so?' _me_? "Excuse me, but if I remember correctly, you _just_ gathered the courage to ask Elle out not too long ago, afraid of the same situation I am-"

Then it hits me.

"Scorp?" I hear Luke's voice, but I can't be bothered.

I'm still a coward, am I not?

All these years I've been telling Luke to grow some guts and ask Elle out. All these years I kept thinking to myself that if I had the kind of relationship those two had, I would have gone for it without hesitation. But here I am, in the same pointless room Luke had been for six years, and I can't find the door.

I've spent so much energy and so much time just trying to get closer to Rose, that I completely forgot what to do next. I have to admit, it hasn't been easy. Neither of our lives is perfect and there's been a number of factors neither Luke nor Elle had to add to their equation. Things have happened. Things that had made me forget how much I want her to be mine, and just kept me focus on being there as long as she needs me. Maybe I didn't say anything because I felt she had too much too handle already. But I also have my share of trouble. I ran away from home, I dismissed my friends, all for her. But what have I truly done? Absolutely nothing.

About three weeks ago, she asked me if leaving it all behind was worth the trouble. I told her that what I chose to do was worth every second I was without it all. But is it really worth it? I know she is, but if I don't tell her how I feel, then all I've dismissed was left behind in vain. I practically sacrificed all I had to train for a racing competition just to give up a few yards from the finish line.

I need to tell her. It doesn't matter how awkward if feels afterwards. It doesn't matter if she rejects me. It doesn't matter if all hope is lost. Giving up is even worse than all that, because it only means I'm too much of a coward to even_ try_.

I'll tell her I love her, I'll say the most dreaded three words I've known out loud, and be ready for their consequences. I know she doesn't feel the same way, but it's okay. Because I know I won't be a coward anymore, and for once I'll say what I truly feel.

"It's rather late, you should head home," I mumble as I look down to my wrist clock. It's five past eleven.

"What?" Luke asks confused as I finished my cup of tea. I take a few galleons out and stand up. "Scorp? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to say something this time!" I shout back at him as I hurry down the street.

"Good Luck!"

I can almost hear him chuckling, but I can't be bothered to look back. I start walking rapidly towards the Outline's exit door. I walk by quite a number of people, all probably waiting for the firework show the Outline is famous for during the Christmas holidays to start. I pass couples holding hands, all looking excited as well.

Then I remember some people tend to kiss at midnight on December 31st, and that only makes me want to get to Rose as soon as possible. No, I'm not expecting a New Year's kiss. I'm not really expecting anything at all, but I need to speak up now. I don't know why, but midnight feels like a deadline. It all feels like if I don't say anything now, I won't ever be able to.

The more excited and lovey dovey looking faces I see, the more I hurry, soon starting to run to the exit, as if my life depended on it.

I finally arrive to the door, a little short of breath. I take hold of the knob and walk out. I'm not sure how Rose and her family will react to the sight of me panting at their front door. I even fear the Weasleys' reaction, especially what my appearance could do to Ronald Weasley. I'm not sure if I can arrive soon enough, even Dissaparating from here to the town near Rose's home. But I don't care, I need to get there.

Just as I make my way to the extracting tube to get my wand, something catches my eye.

The Core isn't full of snow as it should. For some reason, even knowing I need to get out of here now, I can't help but step closer to the magical room. It's almost like some unknown magic drives me to it, pulling me in. I slowly get closer and closer, until I can see somewhat clearly what's going on in the room. I don't really know what is there, but it does not look like snow. It looks like it's been filled with all sizes of sparkling prisms all angled to point at the same spot. I try looking further, but I can't; a few prisms are blocking my sight.

Slowly, my hand takes hold of the knob. I know I should be running with all of me downhill towards Rose's home at this very second. But I feel like I need to get in that room.

Mentally unwilling, I open the door and walk into the Core.

The place looks like a cave carved from a huge quartz. I walk further, trying to see where all the pieces point and I cannot believe my eyes.

There, right in the middle of the room, stands Rose, her eyes staring at what looks like a mirror floating parallel to the floor, a feet from her.

"I'm guessing you liked the place," I say, making her take a step back from the mirror and looking at me with wide eyes.

"Oh, hi. I was actually looking for you," she says.

I stare at Rose. She looks rather uncomfortable, almost in a shock kind of state. She fidgets with one of her scarf's end. Her eyes are slightly wider than usual as they look everywhere but me, and a frown is starting to form between her light brows.

"Were you?" I ask, trying to break this suddenly awkward silence.

"Yeah," she mumbles, this time seemingly unable to look at me."Uhm, I just thought it wouldn't be fair for you to spend New Years alone."

"It's alright. I don't really mind," I reply, aware that her hazel eyes are buried in the wall behind my head and not my eyes.

"I went to the Leaky Cauldron today. I was told you checked out this morning."

"Yeah. My cousin Thatcher offered me a room at his flat for the rest of the hols," I say, and I cannot help feeling like there's something hanging in the air that is making her speak so distant and... not shy... but reserved, even more than she used to be when the term first began.

"I didn't know you had a cousin," she says, looking at the floor, that frown slightly more pronounced.

"Two, in fact. My aunt Daphne's sons."

"Oh."

I look at Rose still a few feet from the door. I know that I need to say something. I know I need to walk closer to her, look her in the eye and just say it. But she looks so odd for some reason. She seems to be in shock. Her eyes move from here to there, scanning the room, but not paying any attention to it, as if she was realizing something.

Maybe I should say it some other day. I mean, it's the year ending, not the world, right? Maybe I can tell her when we go back to school, it's just another week.

Although, what I have to say will very likely destroy our friendship, and it may be rather awkward for us to keep living in the same tower after the bomb I drop. I don't even want to imagine the consequences of telling her one night at the common room.

No, no. I have to tell her now. It's not such a big deal. I'll just tell her I cannot be her friend like this and that we should go back to the non-speaking terms we used to be in, for both of our sakes.

Yes, I'll do that. I'll make it all okay again, even if it pains me; it's just the right thing to do, right? And it'll hurt less in the long run than knowing I love my best friend but she'll never love me.

"I have something I need to tell you," I say starting to walk closer to the centre of the room, where Rose still stands.

She looks at me, really _me_ this time, as I approach her. She no longer looks that troubled, she looks like whatever shock state she was in has worn out. I keep walking, looking at the mirror-like floor as my feet go one after another, taking me closer to the end of it all.

I stop walking about five feet from Rose and take a deep breath. Her face is calm, collected, and no longer focused on my face. She's looking straight ahead, making her look like she's staring at my neck because of our height difference.

"I enjoy being your friend, Rose, I really do; but I'm afraid I must tell you something that might ruin our friendship forever," I say, and her eyes suddenly find mine, a confused look taking over her face.

I take another deep breath as I feel her eyes analysing my face, probably trying to figure out what it is I'm about to say.

I can almost guarantee you, Rose, this is not what you expected to hear. I'm sorry, my love for doing this. Sometimes goodbye is the only way.

"I love you." I say looking straight into her lovely hazel eyes. "I've been in love with you since I first saw you, and I've spent the last couple of months hoping blindly for you to magically fall in love with me too."

I try not to notice the slight shocked look of her face, or how wide her eyes suddenly are, or her sharp intake of air.

"A week ago, we stood right here and kissed, but the room, the forever changing room, remained the same," I keep going, trying to hold up my determination. "I realized then that whatever you felt for me didn't match my feelings for you... It's been pretty clear to me, you may never see me as more than a friend, so I've decided to let you go, even though you were never mine." I say, trying to swallow the huge lump that just decided to appear at my throat. "The thing is that you mean the world to me, Rose, you really do. But I cannot just watch you get a boyfriend and pretend it doesn't bother me that someone else would get the chance to be loved by you, while I hang out behind our friendship's cruel borders."

I try holding her gaze, but I can't. I may break if I do. I cannot break, not yet at least.

"So, this is were it all ends." I tell her, feeling my hands start to shake and ask Merlin, even knowing how much he hates me, to prevent my voice from shaking as well. "I'm starting a new year determined to move on, and free myself from the pain that comes with loving someone who doesn't love you back."

I try looking from the floor back to her face, but I just can't find the strength to do so. I don't want to see her eyes realize what I'm saying. I don't want her to see the pain I'm putting myself through at this very moment. I promised myself to never cry again after my mother's death, but if I look up, I may not be able to keep that promise any longer.

"I'll notify Professor Longbottom that I can no longer fulfil my duties as Head. It'll all go back to normal, at least for you," I say.

I intend to walk ahead, past her. I cannot turn my back, not to her. There's another door at the opposite side of the entrance that leads to the Body.

Suddenly I'm reminded of that day outside the infirmary when I just marched ahead like a zombie, hoping Rose would stop me and say anything. It's funny how things turn out at the end, right? It's the same story, bound to have the same ending.

But then a small, delicate hand takes hold of mine, just as I step right beside Rose in my way to the door.

"Did it occur to you that maybe, just maybe, those cruel friendship borders do not have a reason to exist?" I hear her whisper in a pained voice.

We keep silent standing next to each other, her hand still clutching mine with a heartbreaking desperation.

"Do you know what that was?" she suddenly asks a little louder, pointing at the floating mirror beside her with a motion of her head.

"A crystal flower?" I reply not really understanding the question, still truly to swallow that bloody lump.

"It was a rose," she says "I asked myself what it was that I truly wanted while I waited for the room to do something. Then the petals started to fall down. That mirror you see, that's the bud, the centre," she kept going, her voice sounding every time smaller as the words came out. "And right there, reflected on the rose's very heart, I saw your face, mouthing those three words you just said."

I then, tear my eyes from the wall ahead and whip my head to look back at her, shocked by her words.

"That day, something did change, in here," she says placing a hand at her chest, her voice shaking. "Suddenly this thing started beating too fast for my comprehension. I was short of breath, and excruciatingly aware of how close we stood from each other," she continues, sounding frustrated and angry at that "thing's" reaction. "I tried convincing myself it was just a panic attack. But a panic attack doesn't make a shiver run down your spine. It doesn't make the hair of the back of you neck sprinkle up. It doesn't give you butterflies in the stomach."

I keep staring at her, her face looking straight ahead, away from me.

"What exactly are you saying, Rose?"

"I thought you were smart, Malfoy," she then says, turning to meet my gaze.

I can see her eyes glassy and her cheeks flushed, her freckles standing out more than usual, her plump lips not precisely smiling, but almost getting there.

"I've been wrong before."

Then, she let's go of my hand and pulls me down by my scarf to press her lips ever so tenderly against mine for a few seconds before letting go.

"I love you too, you moron."

All of the sudden, the silver quartz forming the cave we are in, turns gold, sparkling a lot brighter than before. Their flashes looking like small flames here and there.

I guess that's _my_ cue.

I cup Rose's face with both of my hands and kiss her again, catching her by surprise. I can feel her smile into the kiss as her slender arms claps around my waist. I can see through my closed eyelids shades of yellow and orange and then I hear huge blasts followed by a mixture of coloured lights.

Fireworks. Fireworks...

Than, I bend my knees slightly and let go of Rose's face to wind my arms around her waist. I lift her up, making our heights level as she puts her arms around my neck.

She then pulls away from me, and smiling she says:

"Happy New Year."

I smile back at her as fireworks still blow up all around us, showering us both in million coloured lights and sparkles, and I kiss her again.

Happy New Year, indeed.


	21. My Life Would Suck Without You

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, any of its characters or settings. All you recognize belongs to J. K. Rowling.**

**A/N: Hi everyone! So sorry I haven't posted in a looong time, but I finally finished the last chapter of the story! I hope you like it as much as I do! By the way, "Hugs" is the way Lily calls Hugo, and this chapter starts six months after the last one, in June. Most of the chapter is written in Scorp's POV; I just thought he mighst as well finish what he started, right? haha....**

**Oh, and of course:**

**Million thanks to _SeraphimeRising_ for beta-ing the last three chaps, and to _nickiegirl123_ for beta-ing the early ones. Bunch of thanks to everyone who susbcribed to the story, added it to their favourite list or/and reviewed! Special thanks to _KaceyO_ for sticking with me since the very begining, and to _DesireeBoils_, _ElAmorComienza_,_ TilTheLastRoseDies, maddikinz940_ and _Paperback28_, for just being the best reviewers in the world!**

**Love you's to absolutely everyone who read my story, and again a million thanks.**

**With no further ado, I give you chapter 20,**

**and one last time, Happy Reading** **:D**

**Chapter 20**

**"****My Life Would Suck Without You"**

.

_**Scorpius**_

_**.**_

_Dear Mr. S. Malfoy_

_Here at the Irish Professional Quidditch Unit, we are pleased to inform you, you've been accepted into the permanent national Quidditch formation._

_We understand it is a very important decision the one you must make regarding your professional well being. The IPQU offers you the opportunity to join an incredible, specifically selected group of athletes and promises you ability to develop your skills to their maximum._

_We hope our Unit will be of your liking, we will await your response._

_Mark Boyle,_

_Captain of the Irish National Team_

I stare long at the letter and sigh to myself as I fall back onto my bed.

Six months have passed me by already. I studied four months non-stop, got remarkable grades in my N.E.W.T.s, and couldn't care less. Because after much training, virtually no sleep, and Disapparating every five days to a different country for two months, today, I received ten acceptance letters from Quidditch Units all around the Globe. I got accepted in France, USA, Australia, Brazil, Japan, Poland, Canada, Lithuania, Uganda and, ultimately, Ireland.

To anyone in my place, deciding where to go could be the hardest thing they'd ever have to do. To me, the decision is rather simple, and I didn't really have to think it through that much.

You see, Rose is starting as a pre-training medi-wizard at St Mungo's in four months. The hospital has a faculty in Clondalkin, very close to Dublin, where the IPQU is.

The only flaw here, is that I am bound to live a year without her, which would unlikely be of any good.

She has to stay in England for a whole year before she can transfer to another healing facility. She is required to remain in the country for this period of time. I, also, am bound by my contract to stay in the country where whichever Unit I pick resides.

So I'll have to wait 487 days for the torture to be over. I know I just have to hold on for that much, but the wait is something I'm bound to hate.

Sighing again, I roll over my back and put the letter in one of the bed side drawers. I don't bother rolling back; I just stay there, splattered across the bed and bury my face further into the scattered pillows. I always wondered why there were so many, I'm fine with just one. Although I like having a bunch now, because they all smell like a particular someone I haven't seen all day for some odd reason.

Just like on cue, my bedroom door opens slowly and my beautiful redhead comes in.

"I'm so tired," Rose says, taking her shoes off.

I smile into the pillows as I watch her slowly making her way to me.

"Join the club," I mumble as she climbs onto the bed and lays herself on top of me, her chest to my back. "Hi."

"Hi," she whispers tiredly against me.

"How was your day?"

"Exhausting. Uncle Neville kept dragging me around, making sure everything was ready for tomorrow," she yawns and I chuckle slightly. "You should have been there to be dragged as well, you know."

"Just didn't feel like it."

Then she does this strange sound, like a groan and a moan at the same time, which I know is meant to show her dislike to my answer, but the sound reaches a part of my brain that doesn't hear it so innocently.

"Have you heard from any Quidditch Unit yet?" … and the mood is officially over before it actually sprung to life.

"I did." I sigh.

"Where are they?" Rose asks, suddenly not tired anymore, sitting up on my lower back.

"How do you know if I got more than one?" I tease her, turning my head to see her face.

"Because you're brilliant," she says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I _made_ you brilliant."

Right, so maybe I forgot to mention all that training was under the watchful eye of my flower. Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm a man, and as one, I refuse to admit my girlfriend trained me...

"Top drawer, left side table," I say turning back to the pillows, frowning to myself. "And I would be brilliant whether you had helped me or not."

No, I wouldn't.

Laughing quietly to herself, Rose leans over me towards the table and after a few seconds of trying to reach the drawer and not being able to, she gets off the bed and looks properly.

"I'm so proud of you!" she says sitting at the edge of the mattress, holding the ten acceptance letters I got this morning. Then she leans and kisses the top of my head.

I keep silent. I understand that she's happy for me. I understand this is a big deal. I understand my dream is finally coming true. But I can't help feeling slightly disappointed at my near future, even if it's what I always wanted.

"I'm not really sure why, but I had expected you to be jumping up and down given the situation," she then says sarcastically, seeing this isn't the way I ought to react.

"I know."

"What's wrong?" she asks, poking my back twice.

I turn my head to look at her again and see real concern in all that hazel.

For some reason it bothers me she doesn't get why I can't be excited about being accepted in so many Units. I know we've got a plan, and I know that all I have to do is wait. But I don't want to. Why would I want to put myself through so much misery? And why can't she see that? Is she fine with it all? Does she think it isn't a big deal? How can she just accept we have to be apart for so long?

I don't want to wake up alone and go to bed alone, after six months of not doing so. I refuse to accept the fact that my sheets will not smell of her. That I will not be able to watch as her eyes slowly flutter open in the mornings. That I will not be sharing a late evening by the fire with her.

"I just happen to think it is not fair I have to be in another country for an entire year."

"Oh, so this is what it's all about," she replies smiling slightly at my concern.

"Do you know what distance does to people?" I roll on my back and sit up, facing Rose properly. "Do you realize the time we've spent together is only half of the time we will be apart? I have waited six _years_ for to you love me. And six _months_ is all I get. Tell me, is that fair?"

"Listen to me," she says cupping my face with her thin, small hands. "It all will be alright, I promise."

"How do you promise something that is not within your reach?" I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly. Merlin knows I'm not the most hopeful being.

"Just trust me," she says pecking me in the lips before letting go of my face.

We stare at each others eyes for a few seconds but I can't dispose of my sceptic expression.

"Put the frown away," she smiles at me, prompting herself to her knees and then straddling my waist as she buries her hands in my hair. "Or are you afraid I'll leave you for a healer?"

"I've seen myself in the mirror." I finally smile back as I look slightly up, to her eyes. "You wouldn't."

I close the small gap between us, and kiss her urgently, making her sigh. I take her from the waist and turn us over, so I end up on the top. As her back makes contact with the mattress, my lips start bruising her neck.

I've never been one to appreciate loud sex... until I heard Rose moan.

I start undoing her robe as I kiss her up her neck, back to her lips. She too starts tugging at my clothing and soon we are both in our underwear.

"You do know we have to wake up early tomorrow?" she asks panting, as I start ravaging her collarbone again.

I pull away and look up at her. I smile at her swollen lips and her daze gaze.

"We've got a year to make up for, haven't we?" I whisper against her lips and reach down to unhook her bra.

She gasps at the sudden move and smiles back.

**.**

_**Rose**_

**.**

_Dear Miss R. Weasley,_

_First of all, we are immensely proud to welcome a witch of such intellectual to St. Mungo's Training Healers Unit. We've received the results for your Preparation Course Undervaluing Petition, and are very pleased to inform you, you have excelled the examinations with remarkable results. Therefore, you will be starting later this year as an official Healer in Training._

_We understand you wished to be transferred to our faculty in Ireland, once your preparation course was done a year from this fall. Given you have passed the examinations, we invite you to take part of the healing unit that is to transfer this October overseas._

_We will be waiting for your response,_

_Sincerely yours,_

_Martha Morgan, Head Healer._

"Congratulations on beating me."

I turn my head around to catch a pair of dark hazel eyes that, apparently, read my letter along with me.

"Thanks," I smile to James and turn back to my letter.

"Scorpius must be thrilled," my older cousin says as he sits beside me on one of the steps that leads to the castle's gardens.

"I haven't told him yet." I must have gotten the letter about half an hour ago.

"I cannot believe you managed to skip your whole first year," I watch him chuckle slightly and smile to myself.

James also applied to skip his preparation course last year when he was still in Hogwarts. He got very good marks but not good enough. Still he was granted to skip half of the course. I've got to give him a lot of credit though. Unlike me, James has never been one to occupy his time in books, so getting the results he got, was extraordinary for someone who has never bothered to open a book more than once in his lifetime. I'm sure he would have skipped his first two years if he had really tried.

"I've always been the smart one, remember?" I mock him.

"Right," he laughs.

I look up to the green fields spreading in front of me. In the distance, I can see a silvery blonde head sitting beside a raven one. I hope they're having a civil conversation, instead of mouthing insults and threats.

"Is everyone here yet?" I look back at James, trying not to think of Scorpius and Albus hexing each other to no end.

"Most of them," he replies, and I can see his eyes diverting to the floor, looking rather sad.

Neither mum nor dad are coming to my graduation. Dad obviously couldn't handle such a large celebration with people he doesn't know. Grandma Molly offered my mum to stay with him. But when dad was told _Jean_ would be gone for the day, he insisted she'd stay. I don't understand why my dad would rather stay all day with 'Mione's Aunt', rather than his mother, but it's alright. He may feel this attachment, that might not make any sense to him, but I do understand. Jean is in reality the woman he fell in love with, and even if he doesn't remember who she is, he loves her.

"I'm sorry it has turned out this way, Rosie," James then says quietly.

"It's alright. I believe we both knew what the outcome would be anyway," I reply.

"I still had a little hope, though."

I stare at James, and feel my heart breaking a little for him.

You see, James and I have never been too close, despite the fact he's just one year older than me. Al has always been my closest relative. When we were younger (about 7 or 8 years old) and completely uncaring of things such as rules, Uncle George used to tell us we reminded him of his brother and himself during their school years. Just like ourselves, Hugo and Lily have always been joined by the hip. Molly, Fred and Louis; Roxy and Lucy; Victoire and Teddy (of course); we all have our closest cousin; James gets along the best with Dominique, but she attended Beauxbatons; unlike her two siblings, she's too much like her mum to have settled for Hogwarts.

James has never had trouble socializing; but he never opened up to any of us as he did with his friends.

Despite never favouring neither Hugo nor I over Dom, his favourite uncle has always been my dad. James had issues communicating with his father during his sixth year. Uncle Harry used to mumble something about James living up to his name; I personally don't know what he meant by that. One day my dad had a talk with James. I'm not sure what he told him, but after that James' relationship with his dad improved by miles.

I think if someone ought to feel as bad as I did, it is James.

Losing your dad is horrible, but losing the one person you look up to, might as well be just as hard. I feel like he has the shorter straw between us though. Even if I have to pretend to be someone else, I still get to see my dad when I want, and talk to him if I wish. James, on the other hand, cannot. He looks too much like his paternal grandfather to be an undercover relative of Uncle Harry.

"Congratulations again, Red-o," my cousin then says, making me come back to reality.

"Thanks."

"I think I should take Al away before hexes start flying around," he chuckles standing up. He kisses me in the forehead and starts walking forward, where Al and Scorp are, most likely, exchanging tough words.

I smile to myself at the boys' behaviour, but decide not to intervene. Despite it all, I know they will get along eventually, there's no need to rush the inevitable anyway.

I watch as James takes his brother for a walk and Scorp looking at their retrieving backs while a smirk makes its way through his oh-so-gorgeous lips. He may not admit it, but I think he seems to be letting a soft spot for Al grow in his heart.

Then, he turns his handsome face in my direction and I can see a rather dashing smile overpower his very characteristic smirk. He starts walking forward, nodding at whoever greets him on his way. Just as he bids hello to some Ravenclaw, I catch his eyes widening a little as he stares at the direction the other bloke had come from. Unable to see what stopped Scorpius, I stand up and take a few steps forward.

There, at least, eight yards from Scorpius, stands Draco Malfoy.

I watch as the boy I love stays where he stands for a minute or so before he starts walking towards his father, a determined expression erasing the shocked look off his face.

I keep my eyes buried in the unfolding scenery in the distance. I watch as Mr. Malfoy starts talking and realize, Scorpius face gets colder by the second.

I had wondered for six months now if the elder wizard had taken my mum's words seriously. I didn't tell Scorp about our parents' encounter. I didn't think it was fair to him having to listen to it from someone other than his father. Despite my better judgement, I had faith in Mr. Malfoy. I hoped he'd talk to his son wholeheartedly one day. I wished he'd see his wrong ways and try to make it better.

Now, I just hope I didn't misjudge him.

"Can I have a word with you?" I hear a slightly familiar voice ask behind me.

I turn around to find a tanned, tall bloke with dark blue eyes. For the past six months I came to fairly friendly terms with Lucas Zabini; that's how I know, the young wizard leaning against a column a few feet from me, isn't him.

"Will you be twisting my neck this time?" I ask Leonard, not bothering to draw out my wand... yet.

"No."

"What do you want?" I glare at the cold-faced wizard.

"I just wanted to apologize," he says coldly, looking me in the eye. "For everything."

I stare at his dark eyes and try to see whatever motive is hidden behind his words. After all he did and said, I'm not sure I believe he'd apologize so easily. But after searching for about a minute, I realized, surprisingly, he's being honest for once.

I'm not sure if it's the fact that school is ending and that we'll never have to see each other's face again that's making him do this, or if he just wants to make it all better. I don't think I even care about his motives, because I have a feeling his words aren't meant for me.

"I'm not the one you should apologize to," I reply.

"It was your wrist I twisted," he says, his voice dead of emotion, his eyes looking lazily to the gardens at his left.

"It wasn't me whom you really hurt."

Leonard then looks back at me, and dark blue meets hazel, glare-free for the first time. We stare at each other for a few seconds and I can almost see a soul behind all the hatred those eyes carry. I'm not sure whom he hates this much. It could be me. It could be Scorpius. It could be Lucas. It could be the world.

It could be himself.

Whoever he hates, it's none of my business. But I cannot help but wonder if he wishes not to hate anymore.

"I don't know how to apologize to him," he then says. I must admit, I was not expecting such reply. "Nothing can be forgiven anyway."

"I think you're underestimating Scorpius."

He smiles slightly, and shockingly enough, he smiles _sadly_.

"No. You're _overestimating me_," he says, suddenly regaining his cold façade. "I cannot apologize for something I don't regret."

"You don't regret all the damage you've caused?" I refuse to believe that.

"I have my share of wrong doings, but I'm not heartless, Weasley." Leonard replies and I feel this overwhelming relief at his words, even knowing there's no way in this planet to confirm such statement. "But if I had to live the last three years again, there's one thing I'd do again without hesitation."

I stare at the tanned bloke and question myself what it is that makes losing his best friend worth the while.

"Leo?"

I look away from Zabini and behind him as he, too, turns to see who calls him.

Charlotte Goyle stands a few feet from us, wearing a olive dress under her graduation robe and looking expectantly at her boyfriend.

"One second, love," he gives the blonde girl a smile I don't think I had ever seen him smile. So bright and charming and... _loving_.

He turns back to me, his smile gone and finally says:

"Seven years of a ruined friendship requires a complete apology," he sighs, this time diverting his eyes to look at the pair of silvery blonde wizards in the distance. "He deserves a real 'I'm sorry', not a half-felt attempt. And unfortunately, I cannot offer that."

Then he looks back at me and smiles sadly once again. He mumbles a 'Goodbye Weasley' and turns around to Charlotte.

The girl reaches for his hand as he steps closer. She smiles at him once he intertwines his fingers with hers. Then, Zabini flashes that unusual smile of his again, and I find myself understanding his words.

Charlotte is that one thing he cannot apologize for, the one thing he doesn't regret. If he could live the last three years all over again, he would, without hesitation, fall in love with her once more.

I guess that just proves me, he does have a heart.

**.**

_**Scorpius**_

**.**

I stand there, staring at my left to the fair haired man that for so long I thought was my future reflection. He stares back at me with those cold, unforgiving, silver eyes. His face wearing an impassive mask, as usual, but for some reason, it doesn't seem to cover his face like it should. I can see something there, leaking from the cracks. I'm not sure what it is that he's trying to hide unsuccessfully, but it almost looks like _hatred_.

I never expected to see him again. I thought he'd never see me again. I certainly did not expect him to come to my graduation.

Thatcher told me my father never asked for me again after New Year's. I felt rather relieved he was truly letting me go. But I must admit I was disappointed in him for not fighting any further. With 'fighting' I do not mean sending people to look for me or make me come back. For a second I hoped he, himself, would look for me and tell me that he needed me back. Not for the sake of his reputation, not because 'Malfoys don't run away', but because I was his _son_.

He never did.

So, I wonder, what is he doing here? Is he making me come back after six months? Was it all some kind of strategy to make me think he was letting me live how I pleased? Was he planning on bringing me down later down the road? Does he know about my acceptance letters? Is he here to burn down all my opportunities and pay off all units not to scout me?

I take a deep breath, and decide I need to face him one more time in order to find out what it is that he wants from me now. What it is that he wanted from me all along.

I walk towards the man that was once my dad, and stop five feet from him. I stare at him, wearing the same cold mask he has, no cracks visible nevertheless.

"I heard about the ten Units asking you to join them at the end of the month," he says, his voice as emotionless as it has always been.

I say nothing. I just wait for him to tell me he's not allowing me to pursue such career and that I'm getting my arse back to the Manor as soon as the ceremony is over.

"I'm not used to saying this, especially to you, but congratulations," he says and I cannot believe my ears.

I stare at Draco Malfoy dumbfounded.

"What do you mean by 'congratulations'?"

"As far as I know, the word has no other meaning but 'well done'," he replies coldly, and I cannot figure if he's mocking me or just stating a mere fact.

"Why are you congratulating me?" This doesn't make any sense.

He shouldn't be congratulating me! He shouldn't be saying 'well done'! He should be yelling at me for being the biggest disappointment of his life! He should be ordering me to go back to the Manor immediately, screw the ceremony! If not for that, what the bloody hell is he doing here? To support me? I think not!

Maybe, since his reputation is on risk, he told himself this morning: 'I think I'll show my face at the little brat's graduation ceremony, keep appearances perhaps'.

"Before you're mother died, she told me 'don't let Scorpius see you break, keep him strong'." he suddenly says, making my accusing train of thoughts crash. "I did what she asked of me, but in the wrong way... I left you alone."

He pauses and takes a deep breath, like he's dreading saying the words that are about to come out of his mouth.

"There's a million things I could say to excuse my behaviour. There's a million things I regret saying and doing. There's even more things I wish I had done or said," he states coldly, and I'm not sure to what extent he means what he's saying. "I could spend a week telling you how badly I screwed my own life and yours as well. I could apologize for a whole year, and it still wouldn't make up for all the wrong I did to you, to myself, to us."

I notice the way his eyes look even colder than usual and realize all the things he said were things he _could_ do, not what he _will_ do.

"But you won't." It's not a question. He, obviously, thinks so himself.

"No," he says and I can't help feeling like someone has taken my guts out.

Why do I feel so bad? So disappointed? I had expected him to say nothing or to tell me all the ways he's disappointed in who I am. I expected him to be ruthless to me. But the fact that he's practically telling me he knows he was wrong, but still refuses to mumble a simple 'I'm sorry', kills me.

"What in the bloody Earth are you here to say then?" I can feel my hands shaking, but I can't tell if it's from fury or something else.

"That I love you, son. And I'm proud of who you've become."

I stare into my father's silver eyes and find myself staring, not at the cold, unforgiving Draco Malfoy, but at a broken man, who doesn't seem to have anything else to hold on to. For the first time in my life, I can actually see dark circles under his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead. He looks old and hurt.

I know he didn't quite apologize. I know he didn't say what I had wanted him to say for so long. But I don't think I remember him telling me he loved me before. I know he never told me he was proud of me.

So, if I said that those two sentences made up for five years of misunderstandings and hatred, would that make me a mentally unstable person? If I said I want to forgive him even though he didn't apologize, would that make me naïve? If I told you that saying he's proud of who I am, feels like apology enough to me, would you hold it against me?

Because I know he hasn't been the best father in the world. I don't think he's even been a decent one, but he is _my_ father. I have admitted it to myself before that no matter how bad our relationship is, I have no other choice but love him. And maybe, just maybe I don't want it to be an obligation.

Maybe I never needed an 'I'm sorry' from him. Maybe all I ever wanted is just what he said, and the fact that he actually does mean it.

So, I don't think I care if I've gone mad, or if I'm naïve or if you think I'm a moron for wanting to let it all go...

Actually, thinking about it thoroughly, I don't care at all.

"I love you too, dad."

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

"Ok, so here's the thing: I don't like you."

"Neither do I."

"And I never will."

"First thing we actually agree on."

"But I'm willing to make a truce with you for Rosie's sake."

I stare at Potter's determined face and it takes all my self control not to laugh right here, right now.

"You do know I will be gone in two weeks, don't you Potter?" I smirk.

"I know," he replies, still dead serious. "But a year from now, when my cousin transfers to Ireland, I'd like to be able to visit her at least once a month."

I stare at the raven haired bloke that I had disliked for so long, and can't help but side with him.

No, I don't hate him. I never had, I just happen to think he can be a real thick-headed, arrogant, dramatic, childish prick. But maybe I can put all my differences with him aside for Rose. I have to admit, it all would be so much easier if my love wasn't part of Potter's family, but if I've learn something over this year is that sometimes changing your mind isn't so bad.

So, I'm going to look at the bright side of this, not because I'm willing to like Potter, just to be clear. But if I'm going to be forced to be in the same room as the little brat, might as well have fun with it, right?

"Deal," I reply, trying not to smirk so openly.

"So... ehm, congratulations, Scorpius," he says as he extends his hand for me to shake.

"You too, Alb-, Alb-, Potter." I'll get it in time, don't rush me.

"Oi, Al!"

Potter then turns his head and nods to whoever call out to him. We both let go and he walks away to his mates.

I watch as my, officially former, classmates all gather in groups congratulating each other, exchanging new addresses, saying 'goodbye's and 'I'll miss you's'. I look around and find the group of people I had imagined myself celebrating with since I first got my Hogwarts letter.

Luke and Elle look rather happy clutching each other like today was the last day they'll spend together while they listen intently at Mr. Zabini. Charlotte is hugging her mum and dad while Dorian congratulates Leonard. Mischa is talking to Ms. Zabini as Wyatt seems rather bored to be a ceremony that's not his own.

As I watch all these people I was so close to in the past, embracing and congratulating each other, I can't help wonder how I'd fit in such scene if I hadn't fallen in love with Rose.

I guess I would be laughing and looking quite happy, but I doubt I'd truly feel that way. The reason for it is that I know if Rose's and I's lives hadn't tangled together, the silvery blonde wizard walking towards me from the crowd of exciting parents, would have never been here. He wouldn't have congratulated me at all, he probably wouldn't even remembered I was graduating today. I don't know what made him come here and say the things he said, but whatever, or whoever, it was that made him change, has something to do with Rose, I know.

"Congratulations, son," my father says smiling (actually smiling) at me as he approaches.

"Thanks," I smile back.

So, maybe I'm not in the crowd I was supposed to be since I was placed on Slytherin, but I don't mind. Because I know I am where I'm _meant_ to. Maybe I'm not laughing and joking around, but I certainly feel happy.

And that's more than enough.

"Draco?"

Both, my father and I turn around at the sound of a delicate female voice.

"Ginevra, Potter," my father nods at the ginger woman and the black haired man standing in front of us.

"Malfoy," Harry Potter nods back, smiling slightly.

"Harry and I wanted to ask you and Scorpius to join us for lunch at our home," Mrs. Potter says in that sweet, soft voice of hers.

"I'm afraid I must decline, Ginevra," my father says, his voice slightly colder than a second ago. "I have some business to attend regarding my son's near future, but I don't think the boy has."

"Lovely," Mrs. Potter says and she suddenly flashes this incredibly bright smile, just like Rose's.

"See you at dinner, son," my father says, and adds quietly: "I assume you're choosing Ireland?"

I look up at him and can't help but smile at the amused glint in his eyes. The blinking old man must know about Rose's choice of career. Otherwise, he wouldn't know where I'd be heading to.

"I am."

I watch him start walking ahead and find myself grateful at how my life has seemed to have taken a full 180 degrees leap.

"Draco?" Mr. Potter says suddenly.

"Yes?"

"Nice seeing you again," Mr. Potter smiled.

I watch my father's eyes study Mr. Potter's face, as if he was trying to figure out how meaningful those words were supposed to be. Surprisingly, after a second or two, I can almost see my father's lips twitch upwards slightly.

"You too, Potter," my father says and walks away.

"I'll go find the rest of the clan," Mrs. Potter says as she smiles sadly to herself.

She then kisses her husband in the cheek and walks at a happy pace towards the bunch of redheads and few platinum blondes still congratulating Rose and Alb- Potter.

"Congratulations, Scorpius," I hear Mr. Potter say as he walks ahead to stand beside me, both staring at the same scene.

"Thank you, sir."

I keep watching as Rose gets hugs from all her cousins and her aunts and uncles, and I can't help feeling uncomfortable.

"I don't mean to be rude Mr. Potter, and I appreciate your invitation, but I don't think it's a good idea I join you for lunch," I voice my thoughts to Rose's uncle.

"May I ask why do you feel that way?" he asks after a few seconds.

"Well, it's a family's affair, and I'm not part of it."

My family consists of my father, my aunt, uncle and two cousins, that's it. Up until a few months ago, I didn't get along with any of them. Rose, on the other hand, has this huge family, which, I'm almost certain, is the most overprotective bunch I'll ever meet.

I'm not sure if I'm making any sense, but I feel like I cannot be part of something I've never known. I don't know how to treat grandparents. My mum's parents died during the war and my father's parents died a little after I was born. I don't know how to be a good cousin. I don't know how to be a brother. I don't even know how to be a proper son. So how on Earth do I, someone who doesn't really know what a family is, fit in with Rose's?

"But you _are_, Scorpius."

I look away from all the Weasleys to stare at the head of the Potters.

"Harry, how nice to see you," my Head of House says as she suddenly starts approaching us, her husband beside her.

"You too, Agnatha. Zacharias," Mr. Potter nods at the couple and winks at me, before all three of them start walking towards the castle.

I watch at their retrieving backs and smile to myself.

I don't know how to put in words the way I'm feeling.

It's like when you just completed a huge test and dread for your grades. You are almost certain you failed miserably, and then the professor comes out and tells you, you did just fine.

Relief, I believe is what I feel at the moment.

I know Mr. Potter didn't say much. I know they were just three words and that just because he feels that way, it doesn't make the rest of his clan feel the same.

But maybe if this man, who is supposed to hate everything my family ever stood for, this man who was hurt the most by almost every wizard or witch that was ever related to me, if he can accept me, then maybe everyone else can.

"Hi." My love's voice suddenly reaches my ears. "Aunt Ginny told me you're joining our celebrations," she says as she takes both of my hands in hers.

"I am." I smile as I lean closer to her. "I love you, did you know?"

"She does. Now, let's get moving before the Floo network closes on us." We are suddenly being pushed towards the castle by Lily. "_Hugs_!"

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

Laughter.

Tons of laughter is what I met when I stepped out of the fireplace.

I had seen these people sitting all together during the graduation ceremony back at the castle, all wearing solemnly proud faces.

I did not expect _this_ is what hid beneath the surface.

I have to admit, I might have been slightly naïve when I imagined this lunch. I thought there would be a great amount of politeness and remarkable behaviour. I did not picture constants jokes and loudness.

Starting with the very eccentric grandparents, to the even more eccentric mix of uncles and aunts, to the, at least slightly more normal, bunch of all-aged cousins, Rose's family is certainly not what I had imagined them to be. This is probably one of the loudest group of people I've ever seen. But they are also the warmest, most touching, accepting and funny family I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"Would you like another piece of pie, Scorpius?" Rose's only blonde aunt, Fleur I believe, asks me smiling.

"Yes, please," I smile back at her.

Lunch is over with and, apparently, it is a family tradition to have dessert in the living room. Some of the adults are sitting around, some are standing. Most of the young ones are either sitting on the floor or on the arms of the chairs their parents occupy. Rose and I squeezed into one large arm chair after the meal.

"You can cut the act, boy." One of Rose's uncles, the one with a missing ear, says as he winks at me. "We understand first impressions are important, but-"

"Shut it, George," his wife slaps his shoulder.

"Ouch!"

"You'll have to excuse them," Roxanne then says, staring coldly at her parents. "They tend to show their love quite oddly."

"If I were you, I'd take the whole pie with me," the oldest of the Potter siblings, James, tells me quietly as he leans over the back of the chair Rose and I share. "Rosie isn't the best cook."

"I beg your pardon?" Either my sweet little girlfriend has a sharper ear than I thought, or James doesn't know how to whisper properly.

"I love you, Red-o."

I smile at the exchange of words between the two cousins. I have seen very little of Rose in a family environment. At school, she would spend time with her cousins separately from the time she spent with me. I never minded, but if this is how it's been all along, I kind of wish I had been there too. It's really amusing.

"Tell me, Scorpius, what are you planning on doing now?" Mr. Bill Weasley asks, making me look away from Rose and James, all the way across the living room, to him.

"He's joining a Quidditch Unit," Mr. Potter says before I can open my mouth, as he walks into the living room and hands me another piece of pumpkin pie. "Got accepted into ten."

"That's fantastic," Mrs. Potter smiles at me from across the room, sitting at George's left.

"What position do you play, boy?" Charles Weasley then asks, a rather mischievous look on his face. "Seeker? Keeper? Chaser?"

"Beater," I reply proudly.

"Ten galleons, please!" George Weasley then says loud and clear, extending his hand towards his brother.

I watch amused as the redhead takes out a bag of gold coins and places it on his brother palm, looking annoyed. Then Fred's dad takes five galleons out of the bag and gives them to him smiling. The boy smiles back to his father and then turns slightly to wink at me.

Fred surely is a lot like his dad.

"Charlie and George made a little bet on your behalf," Percy Weasley voices the obvious, sounding like he clearly sees no point in such immature behaviour.

I don't say anything. I just smile like I have since I was first spoken to. I'm not sure why, but interacting with Rose's family, somehow, comes a lot easier than I had thought.

"That is so rude." One of Rose's blonde cousins, Dominique I believe, says disapprovingly.

"It is indeed," her older sister agrees.

Then Fred stands from the arm of his mother's chair and motions the last blonde, Louis, and Molly Weasley, to walk out of the house with him as he shows them his prize.

"Have you chosen where you're going, Scorpius?" the only wizard whose surname isn't Weasley or Potter, Teddy, asks as he puts an arm around Victoire.

"Ireland."

Then a sudden silence rises up. No one says anything, they all just stand or sit where they are and stare at me. It feels like they're trying to gain sudden supernatural powers in order to read whatever it is I'm thinking.

"Well, isn't that lovely," Rose's grandmother breaks the silence as she walks over to her husband and puts her arms around his waist, all the while smiling at me.

There's another small pause, suddenly killed by a lot of people talking at the same time.

"You've got my approval, boy," I hear George as he stands up and walks over to shake my hand.

"Was he being tested or something?" Alb-no, I still can't-, Potter asks confused to the talking crowd.

"Pretty much, yeah," James replies to his younger brother as he puts his hand on my shoulder briefly.

"You pass, son," Mr. Potter then says shaking my hand as well.

"Thank you," I mumble dumbfounded.

I did not see that one coming.

I look beside me to Rose, hoping she can clear a few things up for me. But the face I see looks just as confused as I feel.

"I did not see that one coming," she then mumbles.

"So, now that formalities are out of the way, how about we have a little match?" I hear Bill Weasley's voice above the bunch, and slowly the living room starts to empty.

"I call Captain!" Lily then shouts.

"I call it too!"

"You don't even like Quidditch, Lucy!" Rose's brother, Hugo, replies loudly as well.

"Malfoy's on my team! Merlin knows I haven't played beside a good beater in quite some time!" George says just as loud as he, too, walks out the door, and I can feel Rose suddenly jerk at his words.

"Hey!" she complains and I can't help but chuckle slightly at the speed she went from utterly confused to utterly outraged. She then turns to me, smiling slightly. "What are you laughing at?"

"Rosie, would you mind taking this to your mum?" Percy's wife, Audrey, asks from the kitchen door way.

"Not at all." Rose replies as she takes the chance to hit my shoulder now that my guard is down.

"Ouch!" That really hurt!

"You coming?" she then asks me smiling at my child-like expression.

"Sure," I mumble still rubbing the spot her hand left throbbing.

I let Rose stand up first and then follow her to the kitchen, where her grandmother and aunt have few wrapped bowls full of food and ready to go. We take them all and I walk out to the fireplace, while Rose's grandmother tells her what it is on each bowl and I don't know what else. A minute or so later, Rose steps out of the kitchen and joins me by the fireplace. She hands me a small cup full of floo powder and I take a pinch. She throws hers on the orange flames, turning them green. She steps into the bricked fireplace and says 'The Burrow' loud and clear. Once I cannot see her turning inside the brick's limits, I step in as well and let the colours make me dizzy.

I walk out of the fireplace to meet Rose at the other side. She smiles at me and starts walking towards where I believe is the kitchen. I follow her quietly and place the bowls on the long table once inside.

"I'll go look for my mum." Rose then says, walking outside.

I look around the room as I hear her footsteps reaching a first landing. I've never been in such a small kitchen in my life. Everything is so close together, it's rather scary. I don't think I'm claustrophobic, but I'd feel a lot better if the space wasn't so blinking small and so stinking crowded.

Feeling slightly dizzy, I make my way out of the kitchen and into another room, and certainly not the one I had entered the house from.

I stand at the door way of what looks like a library. It looks like it's some kind of extension to the whole house. The wood, although not that new looking, seems a lost fresher than the living room's and the kitchen's. Five shelves full of books stand in front of me, against the back wall. Books after books exhibit their spines proudly.

Truth be told though, the last thing I'm looking at are the books or their titles.

There, sitting on the floor, by the centre shelf, is no other than Ronald Weasley himself.

"How long are you going to stand by the door, Mione?" he asks out loud, suddenly closing the book he, apparently, had been looking at.

I say nothing. Unsure of what I'm supposed to do, I just take a step back, which really doesn't help me at all, since Mr. Weasley decides to turn around at that very moment.

"Do I know you?" he asks, slightly frowning, after a few seconds of staring at me.

"No," I reply too soon to be considered a normal answer.

"Oh," Mr. Weasley mumbles, his blazing blue eyes still glued on my face. "You look familiar, though."

I stare back at the man, and make a decision. He already saw me, he already thinks he knows me. All that makes it slightly hard for me to escape without causing any disturbances. I seem familiar to him, right? Well, might as well tell him who I am, or should I say, whom he can believe I am?

"I'm Scorpius Malfoy, sir, Draco Malfoy's cou-"

"Son, of course. I remember you," he cuts me off, his face suddenly softer, more relaxed. "Last time I saw you, you must have been thirteen at most."

What the bloody hell?...

"You look a lot like your mum, though," he says smiling at me as he stands up and walks over to an armchair by the shelf further to the left.

"So I've been told," I mumble unsure of what is happening. Could it be possible...? "Are you alright , sir?"

Rose's father then looks me in the eye and I can see his smile slowly fade away.

"How long?" he asks after a few minutes in silence, diverting his eyes to the floor.

"I beg your pardon?"

"How long was I out?" he asks looking back at me.

So, it _is_ possible.

"Eight months, sir," I reply and watch how his serene face, finds shock. "Do you mind me asking how you- ehm, how?"

"Turns out my daughter is a genius." he says after a minute or so, taking a paper out of his shirt pocket.

He then hands me the piece of paper and I catch a glimpse of motion. It's a picture, taken probably a long time ago. There, gathering around a sparkling birthday cake, is every single one of the people I meet today for the first time, all fourteen years younger. I scan the picture stopping briefly at each face, until my eyes reach the four people in the middle of the shot. Sitting in front of the cake, holding a rather energetic two-year-old, sits a woman who looks just like Rose, except for the hair colour and some discrete evidence of the passing of time. Standing beside her, is Mr. Weasley himself, holding whom today is the girl I love when she was only three years old.

"Is she here?"

I turn to the evidently aged man sitting a few feet from me, looking straight ahead to the windows. His face is no longer smiling, or frowning; he just looks _sad_.

"Yes, sir," I say, looking at his profile intently "Would you like me to call her?"

"No."

I'm not sure how to reach to such answer. He's back! Doesn't his family deserve to know?

"I don't know how long I am going to be lucid for," he says, taking my silence for what it means "I don't want to cause my family any more pain than I already have."

"Sometimes, we can't help it, sir."

I stare at Rose's dad, and even though I don't know this man at all, I can't help but want to rip off that sadness of his eyes. He's got absolutely nothing to be upset about. He's back, he's lucid. Ok, so he doesn't know for how long he'll be, but it doesn't matter. He has the opportunity to look into his son's and daughter's and wife's eyes and tell them he's home one more time. So maybe he'll hurt everyone further, but at least he can tell them farewell properly, if this is meant to be the last time he's coming back.

"I'm sure it'll be painful, for you and everyone else," I say trying to get my point across. "But I can also assure you, sir, you won't regret letting them know. You may fall back again, but at least this time you can all say goodbye, if you must. You can all have some closure."

Mr. Weasley turns his blue eyes to me. He scans my face and I have a feeling that, just like the rest of his family, he's trying to understand what my intentions are.

"I'm sorry about your mother, son," he says quietly, probably understanding I'm saying this because I wish I had had the chance he and his family have.

"Don't be," I tell the redhead, trying to smile at him, but for some reason, I find it hard. "Instead, why don't you go tell your family the good news."

We stare at each other for a few minutes before he smiles at me and stands up. He walks across the library to the door, but stops before letting himself out.

"You're dating Rosie, aren't you boy?" he asks, turning his head to look at me, a 'watch-it-boy-she-is-my-daughter' expression on his face.

At this, I can smile.

"I'm in love with her, sir."

He looks me in the eye for a second or two before he, apparently, decides I meant every one of those five words. He nods at me briefly, his face returning to its smiley expression and he walks out.

"Ron, is everything alright?" I hear a voice I hadn't heard in a long time, say.

I walk over to the library door, and open it slightly, trying to get out unnoticed. A brunette, older version of Rose is standing in front of Mr. Weasley.

"It is now," He says. I can't see his face, but I hope he's still smiling.

I watch as Ms. Weasley stares at the man in front of her for a few minutes before that collected face of hers falls hard. The woman's eyes suddenly water, like they had been waiting to do so her entire life. She takes a few steps forward and places her hand on her husband's face.

"I'm home," he says, barely audibly.

At this, Ms. Weasley breaks in sobs and her husband winds his arms around her.

"Scorp? What's going on?" I suddenly hear behind me.

I turn to see Rose's beautiful face twisted in confusion. Her eyes go from my face to her father's back, where her mum's small hands clutch his clothes tightly. I watch as Rose's eyes slowly start watering as well, and I feel my heart break for her. She looks back at me, questioning me with her redden eyes. I just stare at her for a second or two before I nod.

Yes, my love, he's back, he's here. It did work after all.

I can see sudden realization in her face, and I watch as she slowly makes her way towards her hugging parents.

"Dad?" she asks Mr. Weasley's back, her voice breaking greatly.

Then, her dad turns to look at her, and I notice a few tears on his cheeks.

"My Rosie," he whispers and stretches an arm for her.

She takes the last step towards the redhead and hugs him. Mr. Weasley embraces her back and I can hear Rose starting to cry.

I don't like to see her sad, let alone crying. But she's got all the right to do so, whether she's happy or sad, or feeling both. Over eight months have passed since she hadn't heard her name from her dad. She's been Mione for almost a year. You have to admit, it must be pretty overwhelming to hear what you have wanted to hear for so long. She's got her dad back. No one knows for how long, not even the man himself, so I might as well let her cry. I just hope this helps her, whatever may happen later, whether if Mr. Weasley is bound to go away again, or stay for good.

Knowing I have no business interrupting their family reunion, I turn my back to the three people still holding each other. I walk back to the living room and take a pinch of floo powder. I step into the fireplace and shout 'Number 12, Grimmauld Place'.

I know this has nothing to do with me. I know this does not concern me at all. This is a private moment in a family, that despite it all, isn't mine. But I owe them for their hospitality, their approval. I might as well give something back.

"Finally!" Potter says once I step out of the brick cage. "You're on Uncle George's team. Rosie's on mine. Where is she?"

I don't answer his question. I look around the living room, noting everyone is there.

"Mr. Weasley, Rose's dad, he- he's home."

I watch as every single redhead, every blonde, every brunette, let their smiles fall down and stare at me in disbelief.

Maybe I wasn't clear enough. Maybe I ought to be more specific. But just when I was about to repeat myself, Hugo stands up from his seat across the room. He starts walking slowly towards to fireplace, and a couple of yards from it, he just runs.

Before I know it, he takes a pinch of powder, shouts 'The Burrow' and disappears in between the green flames.

There's a short silence, and just like before, suddenly the whole family is on the move at the same time. No one's speaking, they're are all just grabbing the under-age closest to them and Dissaparating right then and there. And after a very close sequence of loud 'bangs' I find myself alone in the large living room.

**.**

**OOOO**

**.**

_Dear Scorpius,_

_I hope everything is alright. I wanted to congratulate you for getting into the IPQU! I'm sure they are all very impressed with you already!_

_I'm writing to you because I wanted to apologize for what happened between us in the past years [delete years]. I'm so sorry how it all turned out. You were my best friend, and I hope one day you can forgive me. I wish you the best... even with Weasley._

_Take good care,_

_Charlie_

I stare at Charlotte's letter and smile to myself.

I never thought I'd ever hear, or read, an apology from her. I'm not sure why it took her so long, but I guess that's okay. She admitted her fault at last, and I appreciate that. And maybe, I ought to take a little responsibility myself.

I stand up from the couch and walk over to the study. I take a piece of parchment, dip a quill in the ink bottle on the desk, and start writing.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_I sincerely appreciate your letter, and I wanted to let you know that I do forgive you. I, also, wanted to apologize to you myself. I know I was probably not the best boyfriend, and I'm truly sorry we lost what we had. Hopefully one day we can be friends again._

_I hope you have a great future._

_Take good care,_

_Scorp_

I fold the piece of parchment and walk downstairs to the living room, where for some odd reason, Baron likes to spend his time.

"Got a letter for you, your majesty," I say out loud as I walk into the living room, and almost immediately the dark owl, poses on my shoulder.

Don't ask me why I have to call him 'your majesty', because I'm not sure I know myself. All I do know is that he won't listen to me otherwise.

I tie the piece of parchment to Baron's tiny leg and feel a soft pressure on my shoulder as he takes flight.

I stare out the windows while I watch my owl fly away.

It's been three weeks already since my life at Hogwarts officially ended. A week ago, I arrived to Ireland and found myself in this huge flat my father had arranged for Rose and I to live in.

I sigh at the reminder of Rose.

It turned out Rose's conclusions about the combination of two reported successful treatments to cure the third stage of the Clock's Syndrome were right. Some unreported cases had been testing the possibilities of such treatment and 78% of them had successful results.

According to healers, the only explanation for this depends purely on the patient. During the first stage of the disease, pictures are often used to refresh the patients memories and prevent the illness to progress any further. At the second stage, the treatment it's pretty much the same, only that it is live information that is given, not through a picture. For the last state of the Clock's Syndrome, its been concluded, the patient _needs_ to realize himself or herself the differences between the life they think they are living and the real one, where times have passed, in order to come back.

Apparently, Mr. Weasley kept the picture his daughter had been trying to bring him back with, and kept analysing it all this time. Rose's family was told that was the most probable reason Mr. Weasley reacted differently after that Christmas afternoon than any other time.

Rose sent me a letter a little after I left to let me know healers believe it is very unlikely Mr. Weasley will be having a relapse any time soon. That he's doing fine and that they are all thrilled for the news.

But after that, I have been completely in the dark. I haven't heard from her in over a week and I'm feeling rather upset about it.

I understand she wants to make up for the lost quality time with her dad. But to write 'hello, how are you doing?' or a simple 'I miss you' doesn't take much time, does it?

I sigh once more to myself and look away from the window. I make my way out of the living room and across the hallway to the study. As I open the door, I hear a loud 'bang' upstairs making me almost hit my own head against the door.

Curious, I walk upstairs. As I step slowly towards my bedroom, I realize I feel slightly afraid as well. I can feel my heart in my ears as I turn the knob, and with wand in hand, I open the wooden panel.

What I met at the other side of the door was certainly not what I expected

"Rose? What are you doing here?" I ask the redhead sitting comfortably on my bed, as I try catching a breath I didn't know I had lost.

"I'm moving in," she says smiling at me, with those beautiful hazel eyes sparkling. It looks like she knows something I don't, and is reluctant to tell me.

"For four months?" I ask sceptically, closing the door behind me.

"No. For much longer than that," she replies, that sparkle still holding up.

"You have to go back to England in October."

"No, I don't."

"Ok, I'm confused," I say, narrowing my eyes slightly at her. I'm no fan of mystery. "What do you mean you don't?"

"I didn't get the chance to tell you because of my dad coming back and all," she simply says, still smiling, as she hand me a envelope I hadn't notice in her hand.

I take it, still unsure of this all means... until I finish the letter.

"You skipped a year?" I cannot believe it.

"I have indeed," she gives me a bigger smile this time.

"What about your dad?" I ask, feeling my hopes starting to rise.

"What about him?"

"I thought you'd like to spend some time with him, and that the preparation year would just fit the plan perfectly."

"I'd like to spend some time with him, but I think he needs some alone time with mum first," she replies and I feel like my happiness bubble has just being pooped to nothing.

So, she'll be leaving soon, anyway, huh? Because what she just said, sounds to me, as if she's giving her parents a few months to themselves before she goes back and joins them. Maybe she'll spend her first training year here, and she'll go back to England and finish her career back home, close to her dad.

"So, when are you leaving?"

"When you do."

What?

She stares at me, still smiling at my confusion. Then, she stands up and walks over to me, stopping at a mere feet away.

"I don't think you realize how much you actually mean to me," she says and I can feel her breath mixing with mine. "You see, I love my father. And seeing him doing fine makes me happy." Does she has to be this close? Merlin knows how distracting those eyes and those lips can be. "But no matter how much time I spend with him, or how many great days we have as a family again, I cannot feel complete if I'm not beside you," she says and I can feel my heart suddenly beat faster at her words. "It took every single one of my uncles and aunts, parents included, a _war_ to realize there was someone they loved they didn't want to lose. I do not need to sit and wait for another one just so I can realize so myself."

She then, grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me down until her lips catch mine.

"You've got a piece of me, a piece I cannot live without," she whispers, after letting go. "And honestly, even if I could, my life would suck without you anyway."

I smile at her last sentence and have this strange feeling I have thought of her that same way since I first saw her.

She smiles back at me as my arms snake around her waist. I press my lips to hers and kiss her for a little longer this time, as I slowly make her takes a few steps backwards to the bed.

"You know, an 'I love you' would have been enough."

"Sometimes I feel three words don't make up for the six years you've loved me," she says, tangling her hands in my hair as I keep making her walk backwards. "I'm trying to even things up a bit."

She then gasps in surprise, for we finally have reached the bed, both colliding onto the mattress.

"One day I'll ask you to marry me," I tell her as I trap her between the mattress and me, placing my hands on the bed, at each side of her waist. "You can make up for all that time when you say yes."

She smiles at me and takes my face in both of her hands, pulling me down to kiss her.

"You've got yourself a deal."


	22. Not a chapter: A SEQUEL

Hello. Long time, no see, I know. I'm just here to tell whoever is interested that I have finally decided to write a sequel for this story. It's called 'Where The Story Ends'. I invite you to read it, if you like. If you don't.. then that fine too :)

Here's the direct link:

.net/s/7172492/1/Where_The_Story_Ends


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